MIA at MIA
by WritePassion
Summary: Where's Michael's car? Sam and Fi knew it was at the satellite lot at the Miami Airport, but when they go to pick it up, it's missing. Ride along on their adventure to finding it.
1. Chapter 1

_Burn Notice: It's not mine, I just like to play with it._

_Just a little something that came to me after discussing the whereabouts of the Charger after S6. Thanks to AnneGlenne74 for giving me the title of this piece._

**M.I.A. at MIA**

By WritePassion

_When you're on the run, you have to leave everything you love behind and hope that when the heat is off and you can return home, your possessions will still be waiting for you. Sometimes, as you flee, you need to destroy the things you love or figure out a way to cover your tracks. It's not pleasant or easy, but when it comes down to survival, any smart operative will do whatever it takes._

Sam pulled up to the wooden gate and snatched the paper ticket that the machine spit out at him. He glanced at the woman beside him and wondered if this was such a good idea. They'd been to the loft and seen what was left of it, which didn't put Fiona in a very good mood. Her car was in the cop impound lot and they retrieved it the day before, and now it sat in Maddie's driveway. It was time to pick up Mike's Charger, but considering how upset she was with Michael right now, maybe letting Fi drive it to Maddie's wouldn't be such a smart thing.

"Fi, you can drive the Caddy. I'll take Mike's car..."

"No. I'll drive it," Fiona exclaimed, her eyes staring straight ahead at the gate that rose after Sam withdrew the ticket. "Now, will you move? That infernal buzzing is going to drive me crazy."

"You got it, sister." Sam put on the gas and drove the Cadillac to the middle row of the satellite lot. Before they left for Panama, Michael parked it out here, in the midst of all the other cars, to keep it hidden from the Feds. Just in case, he said. None of them had a clue how Panama would turn out, but Michael's instincts were good. For awhile they lost everything, and no doubt the classic Charger would have been taken as well. God only knows if it would have been seen again if they didn't try to hide it in plain sight.

Sam remembered, sort of, where it was parked. The first aisle he drove slow as he approached the middle, but he didn't see it. In the next row, he repeated the process.

"Okay, where is it," Fiona asked. "It should be here. I remember, it was near that pole!" She pointed to the one with a sign on it. "Section F. I remember that!"

"Was it right underneath it," Sam asked. "I seem to remember that."

"Yes. But I don't see it." She shook her head, frustration rising. "Check the next aisle over."

"I distinctly remember Mike parking away from the afternoon sun," Sam said as he turned down the next aisle. "He turned left into the spot, so that means it should have been down the last aisle."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was this aisle, and he turned to the right to park," Fiona countered. "Right there, I see it!"

Sam accelerated but slowed again when he saw the back end of an older car that wasn't the Charger. "That's a Chevy, Fi. It's not even close to Mike's car."

"Well then backup. Maybe you went by too fast. Or we'll try going down the aisles again."

"Maybe it was in section E, not F," Sam suggested.

This went on for almost an hour, and after combing every aisle, the Charger could not be found. The Cadillac idled in the last lane and Sam slammed a fist onto the steering wheel while Fiona let out a deep breath and massaged her forehead.

"Where could it be, Sam? We left it at this airport lot! I'm sure of it!"

"We're in the right lot, I know we are," Sam agreed. "Fi, I think we've got to face the facts. Someone stole it. It's been here how many months now? Either the cops confiscated it because it was here too long, or the Feds found it and took it." He bit his bottom lip as he pondered the idea. "But no, that can't be. Mike said the car would be here."

"Maybe not even Mr. CIA Super Spy knows that the people he works for took his car," Fiona spat, sitting in the passenger seat with her arms crossed and pressed tight against her.

"I'll find out." Sam jumped as someone honked their horn behind him. Looking into the rear view mirror, he grumbled, "Oh keep your pants on, Mr. Fancy Pants BMW! I'm moving!" He parked in an empty space and let the car run while he dialed a number on his phone and waited. "Yes, I'd like to speak to Michael Westen, please. This is Sam Axe."

Fiona huffed and rolled her eyes. Michael was probably already out somewhere remote doing the bidding of his country. Never mind that he broke a promise to her that he would get out and try to live a normal life with her. She wasn't stupid and could see through his lame excuse about trying to keep everyone out of jail. She didn't believe it for one second, and a part of her hated herself for continuing to love him. She should have gone away and started a new life for herself. If she'd been smart, she would have and then she wouldn't be sitting in Sam's air-conditioned car searching in vain for the Charger.

Sam closed the connection and sighed, dropping his phone into the console. "Mike is out of the country and we can't reach him until further notice."

"I could have told you that," Fiona snapped. "After everything that happened, he couldn't wait to get back to his old job and leave us behind. Just like his car. He probably had someone take it away and send it to the scrap heap or something." That though hurt, but Fiona couldn't say why. As her eyes filled up with tears, she shouted, "I bet they'll tell Michael about our wild goose chase and he'll laugh himself silly." She made Sam jump in his seat when she shrieked, "Michael, how could you do this to us?"

Sam had never seen her like this before, and watching her crumble into tears twice in a matter of a couple weeks was as likely as the Mona Lisa frowning. Sam put the car in park, removed his seat belt, and leaned toward Fiona. As he put an arm around her shoulders she shrugged it off, but he tried again while unbuckling her seat belt. She fell into him and hung on like a drowning woman. To see her armor crack was unnerving. Sam kept his breath as even as possible, because someone in the car needed to stay calm.

When Fi composed herself, she swiped at the tears and turned away in her anger and embarrassment, pulling on the seat belt to bring it down and across her body, but it wouldn't budge. She growled, pulled, and almost put a fist through the window in frustration.

"Hey, Fi, it's okay," Sam whispered as he reached across with slow, careful movements. His fingers clasped the seat belt catch and pulled it across and locked it in place. He gave her one last squeeze around the shoulders and belted himself in before pulling out of the spot without another word. He drove to the exit and paid for the hour and a half they were in the lot.

"Hey dude, what were doing over there?" The attendant looked down at Sam with suspicion.

"We were looking for our friend's car. It's an old black Charger," Sam replied. "It was here for awhile."

"Oh yeah, yeah, I remember that ride. Real sweet one, too," the young man replied with an envious smile.

Sam sat up a little straighter in his seat. "You remember it? Do you recall where it was parked?"

"You were in the right place, Section F, almost right under the sign. But it's been gone for about a month now."

"Who came and got it," Sam asked, trying to curb his anxiety.

"Someone with a tow truck," the man answered. "It was, let me think, I'm trying to remember the name of the company. Oh yeah, it was Brett's Towing. They have these lime green trucks, dude. It's hard to forget 'em."

"Did someone at the airport commission them to pick it up?"

By now, Fiona had dried her tears and was leaning toward the open window, listening to the interrogation.

"I don't know, Mister. I just know Brett's came and took it away."

Sam turned away for a moment, his anger building. "Does the company that runs this lot make it a practice of stealing customers' cars, hauling them off to God knows where?"

The young man stared at Sam and held up a hand. "Hey, woah, man, nobody steals cars here. If you look at your ticket, it says that any car that is stored and not moved for more than three months can be taken away and considered abandoned."

"Oh great," Sam muttered and rested his head against the seat back. "Okay, so where do these so-called abandoned cars go?"

The man shrugged. "Here, I can give you the number for the home office. I'm sure they can tell you." He dug around and came up with a small card. "Here's their number."

"Thank you," Sam breathed.

"Good luck, dude. I'd hate to hear that car got trashed or something. It was a beauty." He smiled in sympathy. "I always liked coming out here and seeing it parked there, sparkling in the sun. It was a thing of beauty."

"Yeah, it was. Thanks a lot." Sam waited for the guy to raise the gate and he took off. On the road, he handed the card to Fiona. "Can you call them, Fi? I'm going to drive to Brett's and see if anyone there can tell us anything."

"Sure." She dialed the number on the card and waited. And waited. Finally, as Sam pulled into a service station where a couple tow trucks sat parked off to the side, she hung up. "Nobody is answering. I wound up in the phone menu from hell and there's no one at the end."

"Don't worry, Fi. If these guys can't help us, we'll try again."

The guys on duty in the office had no clue where the Charger had been taken, and they wouldn't look at their records without a court order. Sam was glad that Fiona decided to wait in the car. She might have punched their lights out and gotten into trouble. As it was, he found it hard to control himself when up against so much resistance. With a heavy sigh he exited the building and walked back to the Cadillac. Fiona had started it up and sat with the AC blasting.

"Well?"

"Nothing. We're gonna have to try that parking lot vendor again. Here, let me have that card."

Fiona gave it to him, folded herself up again in arms and legs and watched Sam dial the number. For her benefit, Sam put the phone on speaker. "Thank you for calling Stratton Parking. For English, please press 1. Por Espan..." Sam smirked and hit the zero.

"Now see, Fi, this is how you do it. When they offer you a menu, hit the zero. It fools the system into thinking you have a rotary dial phone and it'll send you right to..."

"Thank you for calling Stratton Parking. This is Cheryl, how may I help you," a friendly female voice on the other side said.

With a self-satisfied smile, Sam said, "Hi Cheryl, my name is Sam."

"Hi Sam, what are you calling in regards to today?"

"We're looking for my friend's car. He parked it in your satellite lot at MIA, and well, now it appears that it's M.I.A. at MIA. The lot attendant says it was towed awhile back."

"What sort of vehicle was it, Sam?"

They heard her tapping on keys. "It was a 1973 Dodge Charger, black. License plate Sierra seven Echo two zero seven, registered in Florida."

"Yes, I see in our records that the car was kept at the long term satellite lot for several months until recently," Cheryl answered. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you who retrieved it."

"We know Brett's Towing came and got it, but we want to know why and who ordered it be hauled away? Was it Stratton Parking?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, I can't give you that kind of information."

Sam sighed and fought the urge to throw his phone out the window. "Okay, fine. What do I need to get that information?"

"A court order. I'm sorry, Sam."

"Don't worry. We'll get the info, one way or another. Thank you for your time, Cheryl." Sam cut off the connection.

"Great. We're no closer to finding Michael's car. What do we do?"

Sam put his phone away and shifted the car into drive. "I have a buddy who can maybe help us with this. Just relax, Fi. We will have Mike's car in our possession before too long. I just know it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It wasn't natural to see Fiona Glenanne walk into a police station. As she crossed the lobby with Sam, Fiona glanced around at the relatively quiet area. A couple people sat in chairs filling out forms, and a lady cop stood behind a piece of bullet proof glass, but there was none of the chaos that she expected. Maybe they kept all that in back to make the public feel more comfortable upon entering the station. Whatever the reason, Fiona was anything but at ease.

Sam headed for the woman behind the glass and gave her one of his charming smiles. "Hey there, I'm Sam Axe. Is Detective Charlie Howard here? I'm a good friend of his."

"I can check for you. One minute, sir," the woman answered and disappeared through an open door. A couple minutes later she returned. "He'll be out in just a minute, Mr. Axe."

"Thanks." Sam turned away from the window and found an unoccupied seat.

Fiona was too antsy to sit still, so she shoved her hands in her back pockets and paced the lobby. Sam watched her, her constant movement irritating.

"Sam! Long time, pal," Detective Howard said as he emerged from the back room and approached, his hand out and a grin on his face. Sam stood and shook his hand. "I heard you, uh, got yourself into some hot water there for awhile."

"It's all good now, Charlie." Sam turned and pulled Fiona out of her wandering and brought her up beside him. "This is a friend of mine, Fiona Glenanne. Fi, Charlie Howard. He and I go way back."

"Nice to meet you, Fiona," Charlie said with a friendly smile. "How long have you known Sam?"

"Too long," Fiona replied. "Listen, we didn't come to chat. Can we just sit down and get this over with?"

Charlie eyed her and moved his attention to Sam. "What's up? Must be something urgent."

"Maybe," Sam responded and ignored Fiona's cold glare. "It's about a car. My friend Michael Westen's car."

"It was stolen, perhaps," Fiona added.

"Well, come on back and you can tell me all about it," Charlie said.

This invitation made Fiona more nervous, but she would do just about anything to get Michael's car back, so she bucked up her resolve and followed the men to a small office. It was Charlie's, no doubt. The family photos of a cute woman with two adorable kids were a dead giveaway. Citations hung on the walls along with his diploma from Annapolis and some photographs from his Navy days. Her eyes lit upon a picture of him with Sam and a couple other men she didn't know.

"You still have that up on the wall," Sam exclaimed as he saw Fiona studying the enlarged photograph.

"It's a reminder of how good we used to look," Charlie teased as he skimmed his thinning hair with one hand and with the other indicated that they should sit in the chairs in front of his desk.

"Speak for yourself, pal. Some of us haven't lost it," Sam cracked.

If Fiona were in a better mood, she might have said something, but she remained quiet and studied the surroundings.

"Okay, so can you tell me about this car that you think is stolen," Charlie asked.

Sam and Fiona reported their visit to the remote lot at the airport looking for the car, and that the attendant told them it had been removed by a tow truck. As they told their story, he nodded now and then and took notes.

"Well, the first thing I can do is check the Miami PD impound records. Cars that are towed from the airport lot are left at our impound, and if nobody claims them in a month or two, they're auctioned off." He tapped the end of his pen against his chin. "The car was towed about a month ago?"

"That's right," Sam replied. "That's what the kid told us."

"So we should still have it in our inventory." Charlie dropped the pen and got onto his computer, tapping at the keyboard and clicking his mouse for a few minutes. Finally, he nodded. "Okay, I've been through the current list and there's no 1973 Dodge Charger, black with white interior. According to our records, we never had one."

"So what does that mean?" Fiona sat on the edge of her chair staring at the detective.

"It was most likely stolen," Charlie replied with a sigh. "I'm sorry. This kind of thing happens all the time, where someone either uses their employer's tow truck to take cars, saying they're doing it under contract with the PD, or they dress up a truck, or just plain steal it, to take cars."

A rush of air escaped Fiona. "What do these thieves do with them, chop them up for parts?"

"Sometimes. Other times they'll take them to auction and see if they can get more for 'em. If the car was in relatively good shape and ran well, they'd probably try to sell it whole at an auction."

"Do you know of any sales around town that are good places to find hot cars," Sam asked.

"There are a couple of them. They haven't been caught lately, but that doesn't mean much. These guys are getting more and more sophisticated with how they deal with hot merchandise." Charlie scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to Sam, but Fiona reached out and snatched it before Sam could take it. He gave her a raised eyebrow in response. "Those are the places, and if I were you, I'd check out the top one first. They're running auctions Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, in addition to Saturdays. They get a lot of cars in, and they go out just as fast."

"What you're saying is, it'll be a long shot if we find the car there," Sam said.

"Yeah. It's been a month. It all depends on what their customers are looking for. If nobody wants an old Charger, you may be in luck."

"Thanks, Charlie. We appreciate it," Sam said as he stood and shook his friend's hand again.

"If you need anything else, just let me know." Charlie nodded. "One of these days, we'll catch some baseball and beers."

"Sounds like a plan. After we recover Mike's car, because then we'll have something to celebrate," Sam declared with a grin. "Later!"

Sam followed Fiona out to the car. She couldn't get there fast enough, and whether it had to do with being in what for her constituted enemy territory, or the fact that they had a lukewarm lead, Sam wasn't sure. It was Wednesday, and the auction started at three, so if they hurried they might be able to get there in time. Fiona insisted on stopping along the way to make a withdrawal at the bank. Sam didn't ask how much she took out, and she didn't tell him. He had a few hundred dollars on himself, and if it came to it, he would gladly chip in to liberate Mike's car.

Before the auction, the inventory of cars going to the block were brought out and parked in a fenced in area. The bidders were allowed to walk around and check them out and do just about anything but drive them. Over the sea of multiple colors and models, one black roof drew their eyes.

"Holy crap, Fi," Sam whispered. "Its here."

"At least it looks like Michael's car," Fiona said as she turned sideways and slipped past a couple ogling a minivan. When she reached the black body that glinted in the sunlight, she ran her hand along the fender as if it was Michael himself.

Sam split off and went around the other side to look into the passenger window. "It really does look like Mike's car."

Over the roof, Fiona glared at him. "Why don't you say that a little louder, hm?" She lowered her voice to a rasp. "Keep it down! We don't want to tip anyone off that we may have a connection to this car. Then they'll drive the price up."

"Hey, is the door unlocked on your side?"

Fiona tried it and shook her head. "No, and all the windows are up." She muttered a curse. "Unless we can get inside, we'll never know for sure if it's the car we want."

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen, bidding starts in ten minutes," a voice announced over the PA. "Please move to the bidding area at this time. For your safety, you may not stay in the inventory area during the auction, and if you win a bid, you must wait until the vehicle is brought to the post-sales area. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Okay, let's go, Fi."

"But I want to know we're bidding on the right car before we do this!" She clamped her hands on her hips and wouldn't budge.

"We won't know that unless we win it, so you've got a choice, sister. Don't bid and risk Mike's car going home with someone else, or bid and maybe it's not his car. If it's the latter, we'll make do. We'll fix it up, and maybe after Mikey's home awhile we'll admit it's not his car." Sam paused and his mouth twitched. He hated lying to his friend. "Maybe he won't hold it against us 'cause we meant well."

"No. We'll buy the car and if it's not his, well, we'll deal with the consequences then." Fiona's eyes were full of determination as she strode to the set of bleachers where the bidders waited. "I'm not taking a chance of losing him again."

Sam followed, pondering her Freudian slip. Finding Mike's car was about a lot more than just returning it to him. This was about her relationship with Michael. He suspected she was thinking that if she did this one thing for him he would be so grateful that he would feel he owed Fiona and would make good on his promise to quit. It was irrational. Sam understood what was at stake and why Mike went with the Agency. Either Fi was in denial or she just didn't get it, and Sam knew she was way too intelligent for that. He shook his head, realizing that he'd just paid her a compliment. Six years ago that never would have happened. How times change!

He sat on the bench next to Fiona and sensed the vibrations of her fidgeting all the way through the auction. As cars were sold, people left the stands and the crowd thinned, and the jostling grew worse.

"Fi, will you knock it off? The Charger is almost up. See?" He inclined his head toward the staging area, and they could see the black beauty sitting in the drive. "At least we know it runs."

Before long, a young guy drove the Charger into the small arena and parked it. He got out and caressed it with a rag and gave it an appreciative look before exiting to a waiting area.

"Alright, let's get the bidding started on this 1973 Dodge Charger coupe..." The auctioneer rattled off some more facts about the car before starting at five hundred dollars.

A few interested parties shouted out bids, including Fiona. "One thousand," she yelled.

"Fifteen hundred."

"Seventeen hundred."

"Two thousand two hundred," Fiona cried.

"Two thousand five hundred."

"Two thousand six hundred."

Fiona smirked. One of the guys was already wimping out. "Three thousand," she bellowed, not letting her other competitor get in a bid.

The man who sat a few rows below glared up at her. "Three thousand two hundred fifty."

"Three thousand five fifty."

The man looked at the car, than at Fi, then back to the car.

"I have three thousand five fifty, going once, going twice..."

"Three thousand six hundred."

"Three thousand seven fifty," Fiona countered. Her eyes were like ice as she looked down at the other man. He shook his head.

"Three thousand seven fifty, going once... twice... sold to the little lady up there!"

"Wow, Fi. You have that much on you?" Sam asked as he followed her down the bleachers, trying to keep up with her and not break his neck weaving over the bench seats.

"I'm a little short. Do you think they'll take an IOU?"

"How much do you need," Sam asked as they approached the payment window.

"I brought thirty five hundred, so..."

"Two fifty, I got that." He stopped with Fiona and dug into his pocket to pull out his money clip. He slipped off three hundreds and said, "Use the rest for gas, Fi."

"Thank you, Sam." The smile on her face was the brightest he'd seen in awhile.

"You're welcome."

She paid for the car, picked up the title, and headed for the waiting vehicle. "I'll drive it over to Madeline's and meet you there, okay, Sam?"

"You got it, sister." He smiled at the excitement in her gait and the look of contentment on her face. But deep inside, he had a feeling that if this didn't turn out to be Mike's car, she was in for an emotional crash. He should have been spending his time with Elsa, but Fi was going to need him if this went bad. He couldn't shirk his duty to his friend, and if he did, Elsa would get on his case. So he was stuck in the situation until it was resolved.

* * *

Sam parked on the street because Fiona's car and the Charger took up the driveway. She and Maddie stood outside admiring the car, but as Sam neared it, he knew it wasn't the right Charger. An old dent partially hidden by the bumper was the dead giveaway. Sam knew just about every ding and mar in that body because he'd been around through most of them. The dent had obviously been there a long time because upon closer inspection he saw paint flaking and some rust.

Fiona sighed. "It's beautiful, but it's not Michael's car."

He looked up from his inspection. "You figured that out, huh?"

She nodded and swallowed back her emotion. "I just gambled away three thousand, seven hundred fifty dollars for this, and we're no closer to finding out what happened to Michael's car."

Three thousand five hundred, Sam thought, but he wasn't about to point out that mistake. "Let me get the VIN number, and I'll call Charlie to see if this car is stolen."

"Then what? What difference does it make?" Fi's voice rose in pitch and she turned and headed for the house with Madeline hurrying after her.

Sighing, he got out his phone and called the detective. "Charlie, it's Sam. I've got a VIN I need you to check for me." After giving him the number, he waited.

"Sam, that car is stolen. It belongs to a guy in Orlando."

"Orlando? You sure about that?"

"That's what my computer says," Charlie replied. "Sorry, pal. We're gonna have to confiscate it."

"Yeah, I know. As long as Fi and I aren't in trouble for accepting stolen property."

"Nah, you'll be fine. That auction house, however... we'll be looking at them a lot more closely now. You and your friend may have helped us finally nail these guys. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Charlie. I know that'll make Fi feel a little better, but it doesn't get us any closer to finding Mike's car." Sam breathed a defeated sigh. "Oh, you'll need the address to pick up the car. Or should we drive it in to the station?"

"I'll have a tow truck come and pick it up tomorrow morning. It's a little late yet today." Charlie paused. "I'm sorry, Sam. I wish this could have been a clean sale and your friend's car."

"Yeah, me too. Talk to you later, Charlie."

Sam wasn't looking forward to going inside to tell Fiona the news, but he shored himself up for the storm that was sure to come and entered the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Fiona took it a lot better than Sam expected, but he could still see that she was upset by this turn of events. He said, "The guy is coming down from Orlando to take a look at the car, just to make sure it's his. And if it is, he'll be taking it with him, I guess."

"And we're left with nothing," Fiona choked, her hands balled into fists at her sides showing her frustration. She made a noise like a growl and turned away, stalking into the solarium and dropping to the couch. She stared out the window, her head planted in her hand, trying not to pout. That wasn't her style. But she was out of a sizable chunk of cash and Michael's car was still out there somewhere. She should have known that it wasn't his, but she got caught up in the moment and the hope that it might be. She should have had Sam call his buddy and get the VIN checked out before they went crazy and bought the thing.

Maybe the guy would be willing to give them a finder's fee or a reward or something that would offset her loss, if only a little. And Sam's loss. She couldn't forget about that. He pitched in some. She sighed, thinking about Michael and wondering what he would think about their misadventure. Would he even care that they tried to bring his car home? He didn't seem to have the sentimental appreciation for things that she did. Was she unbalanced? His lack of concern for things served him well and simplified life somewhat. Yet it was the attachment to simple objects that grounded Fiona and connected her to other people. That's why, when it came down to it, she could never be a spy alongside Michael.

It didn't matter, because Fiona didn't want that anyway. She just wanted Michael home, where she could love him and try and give him some kind of normal life. She brought her knees up and curled into a ball against the seat back, telling the world without words that she wanted to be left alone to ponder recent events and where to go from here.

Sam was about to say something to Fiona when she broke away, but Maddie held him back. Instead, he watched the play of emotions on her face and felt her pain. The car was just an object, but he understood what it meant to her. In ordinary times he would have thought she was being silly or just a typical female getting all emotional about the goofiest things. But these were not ordinary times. For her that car was like a life ring in the middle of an angry sea, and for him it was a symbol of hope that Mike was coming home safe and sound. He knew how much that vehicle meant to his best friend, and if he knew what his friends were going through to get it back, no doubt he would work extra hard to make it home for good.

"Sam, you want a beer," Maddie asked, standing next to the refrigerator.

He let out a long breath and leaned against the column separating the kitchen from the dining area. "Thanks, but no."

"Looking at you two, you'd think somebody died," Maddie mumbled.

"It doesn't bother you the least bit that Mike's car could be anywhere out there," Sam said as he peeled himself off the column and approached her. "And people are doing God only knows what to it?"

"Yes, it bothers me. But there's only so much you can do. You and Fiona aren't superhuman." She touched Sam's upper arm and rubbed it. "I think Michael would be touched if he knew how you two are agonizing over this."

Sam nodded, feeling uncomfortable now that Maddie knew his feelings. "I think I'll, uh, wait outside for this Walters guy to show up. The owner of the Charger."

Maddie held out the beer, but Sam didn't take it. Instead, he reached into the cupboard, grabbed a glass, and poured himself some lemonade before going outside to sit on the back steps. The sun was beginning to set, the light shining through the leaves and dappling the concrete and grass below his feet. It had only been one day, but if felt as if a week had gone by, and at the end of it they still didn't know where Mike's car was.

Sam wasn't sure how long he sat there, but the light was fading when a cab pulled up to the curb and a guy in his thirties stepped out after paying the driver. His eyes locked on the Charger, and in the low light Sam could see his sparkle with glee. Sam stood and approached him, fingering the gun he kept under his shirt, tucked in his waistband.

"Hey there," he said and startled the newcomer.

The man turned and stared at Sam, eyeing him from head to toe. The motion sensor turned on a floodlight mounted on the garage's ridgepole, bathing the Charger and Fiona's car in bright light. The man had dark hair and whiskers that were more than a five o'clock shadow. He almost looked like a younger Michael Westen, except when he smiled. He appeared to be a lot friendlier then, but Sam still kept up his guard.

"Hi. I'm Russ Walters, the owner of the Charger." He grinned as he held out his hand, and Sam took it. "You must be Sam Axe. I was told you'd be waiting for me."

"You talked to Detective Howard?"

"Yeah. It just so happened that I was in Miami on business today, so as soon as he called, I came right over. I do a lot of running between here and Orlando, so I know Miami pretty well." He must have realized he was rambling, because the smile on his face twitched and he turned serious. "This baby has been missing for several weeks now, and you don't know how glad I am to get her back. Chica's like a member of the family."

"Chica?"

He smirked and shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Yeah, I named her. I've had this car since I hit twenty one. My dad gave it to me when it was a wreck and I... I restored it." He seemed embarrassed by his boasting. "Anyway, when it was stolen in broad daylight in downtown Orlando..."

"Do the cops know how it was stolen?"

Russ sighed as if it hurt to retell the story. "My wife was using it. She was out shopping and when she came back the guy was hooking it up and told her it was being taken to the impound lot because there were unpaid parking tickets. She knew that wasn't true, but... what could she do?" He ran a hand through his hair and blinked as he stared at the car. "She was upset, but you can imagine I was pretty heartbroken. It's about all I have left of my dad."

"Sounds like my friend Mike's story. That's why we were really hoping this was his car, but we didn't have a whole lot of time to figure out if it was."

"The detective told me how you guys found it and bought it," Russ said, turning sympathetic eyes on Sam. "I wanna compensate you guys for the trouble. It's not right that you came up empty and lost your money on top of it." He pulled his wallet from his pocket. "I only have five hundred on me right now, but I promise I'll get the rest to you as soon as next week when I'm back in town, maybe sooner. You just let me know how much you paid, and I'll take care of it."

Sam accepted the cash as he said, "Thanks, but it's not necessary. We're just glad you got your car back."

"I hope you can get yours. I mean, your friend's car." Russ moved to the back of the vehicle and caressed the trunk. "I better take off now and get back to Orlando. My wife's gonna wonder why I didn't fly back, but she'll be really happy to see the car." His smile blazed to life again. "Thanks, Sam."

"You're welcome, Russ." Sam took a step back into the shadows and watched the man's hands slide over it as he made his way to the driver's seat.

Russ stood before the door and found his keys on his keyring, then stuck the key into the lock, but it wouldn't open the door. He muttered under his breath.

"They probably changed the locks. Unless this isn't really your car," Sam said. "Fi and I made that mistake, you know." He gave Russ a crooked smile.

"No, this is it. If I could get inside, I can prove it."

"Here." Sam handed him the keys..

"Thanks." Russ got in while Sam stood in the shadows. The man ran his hand over the wheel and the seat, and underneath he searched for something. Smiling, he pulled and brought up a simple hairpin. "This is my proof."

"A hairpin. What was that doing in there?"

"It's a long story, Sam, and one my wife wouldn't want me telling," Russ replied with a smile that let Sam's imagination run wild.

He nodded and didn't trust himself to get any closer to the car. The proof was there, the car was Russ's, and it would soon be heading off into the night with its owner.

Russ fired up the engine, and he was about to put it into reverse when a squad car pulled up with flashers swirling and a tow truck following close behind. Puzzled, Sam approached the officers who emerged from the squad car.

"What's going on," he asked.

One officer walked past Sam and asked, "Mr. Walters, do you have anything to prove that this is your vehicle?"

"Besides thia?" Russ held up the hairpin, and seeing that the cop wasn't as easily convinced as Sam, he answered. "If you match up the registration with my license, you'll see it's mine. Why are you asking this? What's going on?"

"Are there any distinguishing marks that no one but you would know about? We just want to make sure this is your vehicle, Sir. You understand."

Letting out a breath, Russ stood with his hands on hips. "Yeah, there's a gouge on the engine block. I did that trying to loosen up a tight bolt and almost broke my hand."

One of the officers signaled the tow truck operator, who came forward with the chains and gear to haul the car away.

"Wait. What are you doing? Where are you taking my car?" Russ blocked the tow truck operator.

"We'll get the thing up on the truck and then look at the underside. If the gouge is there, we know it's yours and we'll take it away as evidence in an ongoing investigation."

"You're kidding." Russ paled in the low light.

"They're not kidding," Sam said. "I was hoping this wouldn't happen. Sometimes they'll just photograph the hell out of something and then let the victims take it, but apparently someone has decided to hang onto your car for awhile." He frowned. "It wasn't Detective Howard, was it?"

"No, it was Captain Briggs. They'll probably release the car in a couple days, once it's properly processed," the officer assured them. "We'll need prints from everyone who touched it."

Before the police and the tow truck left, Sam ran into the house to tell Maddie he was leaving. He rushed to his car and unlocked it. "Hey, Russ, come with me."

"Where are we going?" Russ hurried to the passenger side of Sam's car and got inside.

"We're following that cop and the tow truck." With a determined set to his jaw, Sam said, "No way are we just taking their word for it that the car is going to impound. And I'm calling my buddy, Detective Howard. I wanna make sure nobody's trying to pull something on us again, know what I mean?"

The tow truck took the car to the impound lot just as promised, and Sam and Russ sat in the Cadillac watching them take it off the truck. The cops studied the underside, and they must have found Russ's evidence, because they seemed satisfied and nodded for the operator to let it down. Neither man in the car spoke until the deed was done.

Shaking his head, Russ said, "My wife isn't going to believe this. I guess I better get a cab back to the hotel, check in again, and hope I can leave with the car tomorrow." He looked at Sam. "I already sent my pilot back to Orlando with the plane because I thought I was going to be driving my baby home!"

"Hey, why don't you come with me," Sam said. "My lady owns a hotel, the Darabant."

"Nice place. I was staying at the Marriott."

"This place is a whole lot better. Trust me." Sam grinned. "You got any luggage?"

"I sent it along with my pilot except for an overnight bag." He held up the bag.

Along the way to the hotel, Sam learned a little bit about the man who had an affinity for a 1973 Dodge Charger that was so like his friend's, and it amazed him how similar the two men were. Except Russ, instead of pursuing bad guys, spent his life creating devices that let others do that sort of work. For him to have a car stolen from right under his nose must have been humiliating.

"It still blows my mind that there's more than one like it out there," Sam said as he turned in to the valet parking. "I really thought it was one of a kind, at least in the state."

"Me too. I wonder how many more are sitting around Florida." Russ got out of the vehicle and waited until Sam met him on the curb.

"I'm wondering how many more are missing? You know, if someone is running a special kind of racket stealing and selling these Chargers, there could be a bunch more that we'll never find because they've already been chopped up for parts, or..." Sam shut up and held the door open for Russ. "I shouldn't even be thinking like that. Forget I said a word."

"Why does it matter? My car is intact."

"Yeah. Lucky you." Sam didn't intend to sound so cold, but he couldn't help but feel jealous that this man knew his car was safe. Who knew about Mike's car? Where was it? Was it in one piece? "I'm sorry, Russ."

"No, it's okay. I hope you find your friend's car intact too. I really do."

Sam waited until Russ checked in and escorted him to the elevator. Russ got off on the ninth floor, and after Sam wished him a good night and good luck the next day, he continued to the penthouse where Elsa no doubt waited for a late supper. By now she probably just ordered room service instead of hoping for a home cooked meal or eating out. He called her and told her about the lost cash, so she already knew.

"Hey baby, I'm home," Sam said as he entered the penthouse.

"There's my hero," she said and greeted him at the door with a glass of wine and a sensuous kiss. Instead of being angry, she was pleased that he'd done such a thoughtful thing.

"Hero? What'd I do?"

"You didn't think about giving Fiona that money, did you? You just did it. In my book, that makes you a hero." She kissed him again, leaving him almost breathless.

"I tried, but we came up empty." He wrapped his hands around her waist.

"Maybe tomorrow things will look up," she hoped as she pulled him into the room and showed him exactly what she thought of his actions that day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Hey Sam," Russ greeted Sam the next morning as he crossed the lobby.

Sam stopped, waiting for the man to catch up to him. "Morning, Russ. How was your night?"

"Excellent. Your lady has a fine hotel here." He smiled. "I'll be sure to give her more of my business the next time I'm in town for more than a day trip."

A silence fell between them, and Sam broke it. "You heading back to Orlando until they release your car?"

"No. I got a call from the station," Russ replied. "They want me to come in and get fingerprinted for their investigation. Can you believe it? They're treating me like the criminal, and it's my car."

Sam held up a hand to calm him. "It's just standard procedure, Russ. They want me, Fi, and even Maddie to get printed too, so it's nothing to get excited about. They just want to rule us out as suspects, that's all. Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I know how these guys work. Everyone is suspect until they narrow down things."

"Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

Clapping a hand on Russ's back and leading him toward the exit, Sam replied, "That's just a fantasy, pal."

After getting fingerprinted, Sam found Charlie in his office.

Charlie heard his knock and looked up from the file he was reading. "Sam. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I was just wondering what you've come up with in your investigation. Russ Walters was hoping he could get his car back soon and take it home. Like today?"

"After the lab boys lift prints, but that could take a good part of the day." Charlie sighed and folded his hands over an open file. "I'm afraid it's gonna be at least tomorrow. I wish I could pull some strings for you on this, but I can't."

"Okay, so what about the auction house? Did you do any checking on them?" Sam took a couple steps into the room and stood in front of Charlie's desk.

"I've got enough for a warrant, which I'm waiting for, and we'll be raiding them as soon as it's in my hands." He looked up at his friend with a sympathetic expression mixed with a hint of frustration. "Sam, I wish this could get tied up all neat for you and find Michael's car."

"I know. I'm sorry I'm badgering you on this." Sam turned on his heel. "I'll talk to you later, Charlie."

"Let me know if you find anything, Sammy."

"Will do!" Sam found the women in the lobby with Russ. Maddie seemed to be taking all of this in stride, and she looked relaxed and chatted with Russ. Fiona, however, appeared more like a caged tiger unable to even pace. Her eyes locked on Sam's and without words she asked him what was happening. He told them everything he knew.

"So I guess I should probably hang around town another day, huh," Russ mumbled, then put on a more amicable expression. "Hey, it's okay. I can conduct business down here just as well. Thanks for all you're doing, Sam. I appreciate it."

"No problem. You need a ride back to the hotel? We can drop you off, and then we'll drop off Maddie at her house. After that, Fi and I need to do some surveillance." Sam said.

"I can assure you that you are not packing the cooler this time," Fiona said. "Baloney, crackers, and cheese in a can? Eeew!"

Sam chuckled and explained to Russ, "When we're on stakeout, that's the only time I can let loose a little. Elsa's all about my eating healthy."

Russ nodded, understanding how things worked. "Where are you going to stake out?"

"The auction house. They don't do auctions today, but this is probably the day when they'll do something illegal," Sam answered. "So we better get a move on."

The four got into the car and Sam pulled out of the lot. As he waited for traffic to clear, Russ, who sat in the back with Maddie, geared up the courage to ask, "Can I come with you? Maybe there's something I can do to help."

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Sam's eyes were full of doubt. "Fi and I have done this dozens of times, Russ. And we've got a friend who can help us if we need him."

"I'd rather not get Jesse into this unless we need someone to act as a player," Fiona said as she brushed away a strand of hair from her face. "Maybe you can help us with that too, Russ. If we need to set something up to trap the thieves. Until then, you're better off sticking to your business."

Russ remained silent, but he settled into the back seat with arms crossed, staring out the window, his jaw working. No doubt he was a man of action, not unlike Michael. It struck Fiona that the way Russ dressed and carried himself reminded her of the man she loved. His face, which was now clean shaven, didn't look much like Michael's at all, at least in her opinion. Although, that stubborn set to his lips brought back memories.

"We'll call you if we need your help, Russ." Fiona laid a reassuring hand on his arm. "I promise."

He gave her one of those consolation smiles like Michael used to give her and said, "Thanks. I just want to get my car back, and I want you guys to find your friend Michael's car."

Maddie had been listening to the two talk, and an idea formed in her head. She finally let it out. "Sam, did you ask your detective about any other Chargers missing?"

"No, but I was going to look into that," Sam replied. He pulled in to the hotel drive. "I have access to a database of cars reported stolen in Florida, and I want to check it out. I can do that while we're on the stake out." He turned his head and glanced at Russ. "We're at the hotel. I've got your number, and you've got mine, so if you can think of anything strange that may have happened before your car was stolen, or whatever, let me know. Okay?"

"Sure thing, Sam." Russ got out of the car, his movements slow and hesitant. "Be careful. All of you. A car isn't worth getting killed over."

"No, there are definitely better things worth dying for," Sam said. He waved at Russ and took off, leaving their new friend watching him drive down the street. "Okay, Maddie, we'll get you home and then Fi and I..."

"No, I'm going to help you with this. It's either that or I sit at home and watch TV all day." She let out a huff. "Ever since I was on the run with you, normal life just doesn't seem so attractive."

"We spoiled her, Sam." Fiona grinned from the back seat.

"Mikey'll kill us if something happens to her," Sam said. "I'd rather not take the chance."

"It's just surveillance," Fiona countered. "What could it hurt?"

Sam glanced at Maddie to his right, then Fiona in the mirror. She knew better, but both women made good points. Michael had put his own mother in danger while trying to protect her and it all worked out in the end. He tried to analyze and think what Mike would do if he was there. In the past he would have said he would insist on taking her home, but now she actually had experience. In some ways, she was quite the operative, good at playing roles and interrogating almost as well as any of them.

Sam let out a deep sigh. With Jesse finding a lucrative position at a security firm and Michael off to somewhere else in the world, they were seriously low on manpower. What would it hurt to use Maddie for some of the less dangerous stuff? This was just a surveillance as Fi said, and maybe she could go get them some supplies for the stake out while he and Fi watched the auction house.

"Okay, fine. Maddie can come along. Maybe Charlie will get his warrant and show up before we need to do anything."

"You didn't tell us about this," Fiona said as she leaned forward to glare at Sam. "When were you going to spill it?"

"I wanted to wait until Russ was out of the car. It's not that I don't trust him, it's just that we don't need to be getting him involved." Sam parked across the street from the auction entrance. "Russ just has to be patient for the cops to be done with his car and then he's out of the picture. We still have to find Mike's car ourselves."

Sam parked close enough to see into the office beyond the chain link fence. He pulled out a pair of binoculars from the glove compartment and sent Maddie off to a small market not far from the scene. Fiona sat in back with another pair of binoculars and studied the lot full of cars. Maddie returned and dropped the plastic sack on the floor in the back with Fiona and sat in her seat waiting for something to do.

"Maddie, here," Sam handed her the binoculars. "Can you keep an eye on that office and let me know if there's any activity?" She nodded, and he nodded, smiling at her. She was happy to finally be doing something constructive.

While the women spied on the property, Sam got out his tablet and searched the database for stolen Chargers. He whistled at the long list of several dozen that had been stolen throughout the state. He narrowed it down to the model year, give or take a couple, and the list flashed and changed. Including Mike's car and Russ's, which hadn't been taken off the list yet, there were three others within the same model year. Sam ruled out the red one and a white one. Only one other black vehicle remained. It had also been stolen from the Miami area.

"Sam," Fiona said.

"Yeah?"

"I see another Charger, black, that looks like Michael's. It's in that other lot over to the right of the office."

Sam held out his hand for the binoculars. Fiona gave them to him and he focused on the sight. "Well, I'll be." He handed them back to Fiona and reached into the console for a small pad of paper and a pen. He scribbled down the VIN number in the report on his screen. "Okay, ladies, I'm going to need a distraction so I can check out this car's identification number and see if it matches Mike's or this other stolen car. Think you two can handle it?" He glanced at Maddie and Fiona, then shook his head. "What am I thinking? Of course you can." He gave them an encouraging grin. "Set it up, ladies."

Fiona and Maddie met on the driver's side of the Cadillac and crossed the street together. "Fiona, what are we going to do?"

"Remember the roles we played when we were trying to get into the DMV records to find the man posing as Michael," Fiona asked, and when Maddie nodded, she continued, "That's what we're going to do again. Only this time, my boyfriend is a thief and he took my car. We'll try to get them to search their inventory to the south while Sam is in the north lot checking out that car."

"Are you sure this'll work?"

"There are only two guys here right now." Fiona popped a stick of gum in her mouth and chewed, and she spoke with an accent that was near hillbilly. "We'll get them both to be gentlemen and help us out, won't we, Momma?"

Maddie grinned. "We shore will, baby!" As they neared the office, she changed. Her smile wiped away, replaced by a frown and a furrowed brow.

Fiona appeared just as worried as she stopped and knocked on the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam walking along the fence looking for a good place to scale along the north line of the property, where he would have a less conspicuous place to make his entry.

"We're closed, ladies," a tough looking man said with a gravelly voice as he opened the door. "There's an auction tomorrow, and you can come back then."

"But we need your help, mister! Mah boyfriend took mah car, and we found out he brought it here to sell," Fiona drawled. "We broke up and he took it. He just took mah car, and I have a lot of sentimental things in there. Not to mention how much that car means to me." She poured on the tears and clasped her hands together. "Please, please, help us. I mean, you wouldn't wanna sell a stolen car, now would you?"

"We don't sell stolen cars."

"Well then you wouldn't mind if we picked up mah daughter's car, now would ya," Maddie burst into the conversation. "Otherwise, we might have to go to the police, darlin', and report it. The police'll come right here and look for us."

"Uh, no, ma'am, we don't need to get the police involved." The man grew nervous and opened the door wider. "Why don't you two come in, and we'll go through our inventory list? If you see your car, you can point it out."

"No, no, no, I have to go find it out there," Fiona said, pointing to the field of cars.

"Lady, we've got close to five hundred cars in that lot," he said. His partner gave him a glare, as if urging him to get rid of the two women as soon as possible.

"I can tell you what kind of car it was," Fiona said. "It was a red Saturn, two door... as a matter of fact, I think it see it right out there! Look, Momma! Don't that look like it?"

"It shore does, honey! Please, take us out there."

"Okay, fine. Let's get this over with. Kip, find the keys for that one."

They waited a few minutes until Kip, who was as scruffy as the nameless man who appeared to be the boss, found the keys. Kip said, "We have a couple of red Saturns, so I'll take both sets. One of them has to work with that car."

The boss said, "Why don't you grab one set and I'll take the other. That way we get these broads outta here quicker and we can get back to work."

Kip shrugged. "Okay." He handed one set to his boss. "I think those go to the one out there, the one that these ladies picked out. The other one is over on the southwest side of the lot."

Fiona picked the right car to get the men away from the office and out of sight for Sam to make his entrance. As soon as he spied them on the far end of the lot, he threw a floor mat over the razor wire and climbed up and over. The effort pulled at the site where he'd been shot a few months earlier, but he ignored the slight throbbing and dropped to the pavement. He looked around, seeing no one noticed his gymnastics, and he pulled the mat off the wire. Then he turned toward the Charger and ducked down to inspect it.

The vehicle could have been Mike's, but he checked the VIN and it matched the other car that had been stolen. The only way to be sure was to look inside, because it was possible that these guys switched VIN tags. He jimmied the lock and opened the door, and the built up heat blasted him as it rolled out, but Sam ignored it and crawled inside. His first instinct was to check the glove compartment. If the car was sold at the auction, most likely the storage space would be empty. If not, and no one had messed with it, Sam would find plenty of evidence that it was Mike's car.

He opened the compartment door and he found an original manual, some maintenance records, and a spare key stuck way down into a recess. He pulled it out and retrieved his car keys. He had a copy of Mike's car key, so he compared the two. Shaking his head, he put it back where he found it. This wasn't Mike's car, and a glance at the handwriting on the maintenance records finally convinced him. Sam replaced everything in the glove compartment and slammed it shut, then began to crawl out of the front seat. He closed the door without making much noise. As disappointing as it was to discover that this wasn't Mike's car, Sam was still relieved that they found one more nail in the coffin for the guys at the auction house.

The sound of gravel crunching caught Sam's attention. A gray sedan parked in front of the office and a man in a suit got out, looking around, puzzled that no one was about at this time of day. He got on his phone, and Sam heard the phone inside the office ring, he was that close to it. Scooting around to the corner, he watched one of the guys turn and hurry back to the office, leaving Fiona and Maddie surprised and not sure what to do. Fiona followed, and Maddie brought up the rear.

"Hey, where were you," the man in the suit barked. "I've gotta pick up that car now. The boss wants it."

"Relax, Johnson, it's out in the north lot waiting for you. Just gotta grab the key." A few moments later, he said, "Here it is."

"Hey, did you ever find out what happened to that other Charger, the one the lady bought yesterday?" Johnson asked.

"No idea. She bought it and it's gone. If your boss wanted it, he should have bid more."

"Yeah. Don't worry. There aren't many of those babies out there, and we'll find it if it's still in Miami." Johnson laughed. "We found it in Orlando, so we'll have no trouble finding another one."

The office door slammed and Sam heard footsteps. Time was running out. If he tried to make a run for the fence, Johnson would see him. If he moved around the corner, he wasn't sure that the owner or Kip wouldn't see him. There was only one option Sam could see that didn't involve them losing sight of the Charger. He rushed to the back of the car, ducked down and popped the lock on the trunk. He rigged the latch and got inside as he heard Johnson round the corner.

"Yes, Sir, I'm getting the car now. I'll have it at the shop in about a half hour, and we'll go over it. If it's not Westen's, we'll just keep looking." He unlocked the door and got into the driver's seat, then started up the Charger. "This would have been so much easier if you had the VIN, but hey, I never said that, did I. Alright, it runs fine. I'll see you in a little while."

* * *

Fiona and Maddie reached the front of the office as the black Charger drove past and out the gate. A man in a suit was driving. Another man took the wheel of the sedan parked in front of the office and drove away, leaving the two women to search the area for Sam.

"Where could he be," Maddie asked.

"I don't know. Maybe he's back at the car." Fiona couldn't get a good look from where she stood.

"I think you ladies should leave now," Kip said.

"Thank you for your time," Maddie said. "I'm sorry, that wasn't my daughter's car."

The guy looked at her as if he didn't think it would be, and now that they all knew the truth, it was time for her to leave before he decided to get ugly.

Fiona led Maddie back to the car, squinting behind her sunglasses, hoping to see Sam in the driver's seat. "He's not in the car, Madeline." She picked up her phone and texted him. 'Where are you, Sam?' She and Maddie got into the vehicle and hoped that Sam would return soon.

In less than a minute, Fiona's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and saw Sam's message. 'In Charger trunk, heading to unknown location.' "Sam, you idiot," she muttered.

"What's going on," Maddie asked and stuck her head between the seats to see what was on Fiona's screen. She gasped. "Is Sam crazy?"

"I'm sure he had a good reason for ducking into that trunk. At the very least, he'll wind up where the new owner of the car is. I'm not sure why that should matter, unless... maybe this is Michael's car and he didn't want it to disappear." She rolled her eyes. "He should have just put a tracker on it."

"Well, what do we do now?"

"Go back to your house and hope Sam sends a message telling us where he is," Fiona answered. "We have no idea which way that driver went with the Charger." She slipped into the driver's seat and reached under the dash. "He didn't leave the keys, so I'll have to resort to hot wiring the car." Maddie got out and sat in the passenger seat. The engine roared to life, and at the same moment, the street filled with cruisers and a detective's sedan that pulled up behind them.

"Fiona, what's happening?"

"Looks like Sam's friend got his warrant," Fiona replied with a slight smile as she turned off the car. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

Detective Howard stood near his door speaking with an officer, coordinating the operation. A group of police stormed the office and soon brought out Kip and the other man, shoving them into squad cars.

"Detective, I'm Fiona Glenanne, Sam's friend." She introduced herself to him.

"Yes, I know who you are. Where's Sam?" His eyes were on the Cadillac.

"We don't know." She explained what they had done and that Sam was now missing. "I think he hopped a ride in the Charger's trunk."

Charlie muttered a few curses under his breath while he stood with hands on hips. "That sounds like something Sam would do. I thought you guys had trackers and stuff."

Fiona shrugged. "Maybe he didn't have on one him. I don't know! I'm hoping that when he gets to his destination he can text me again."

"If he doesn't get found out first." Charlie snapped his fingers. "Perhaps we can triangulate his cell signal. We would need to get him on the phone, though."

"It's too risky," Fiona warned, fear for Sam's welfare creeping into her voice. "We'll wait for a text, or if you can get one of those scumbags in the cars to talk, I'm sure they could tell you where that guy in the suit took the Charger."

"Don't worry, Fiona, we'll find Sam safe and sound." Charlie assured her with his lips, but she saw on his face that he was just as worried about his friend.

"Don't let your mouth write checks that you can't cash, Detective. A friend said something similar to Michael once." She gave him a thin smile.

"Just go back to Sam's car. I'll talk to you in a little bit." Charlie strode to one of the units holding a suspect, his hands clenched at his sides swinging to the beat of his sensible cop shoes clomping on the asphalt. Fiona imagined that the bad guys would soon be shaking in their shoes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Getting bumped around in the back of an ancient car wasn't Sam's idea of a good day. He held onto his belt that he used to keep the latch from sticking and paid attention to how many turns the driver made. Doing rough calculations of their perceived speed, he thought maybe he knew where he was, and if he was correct, they were getting farther away from Miami by the minute. Hopefully the driver stopped soon before his entire body became one big bruise.

Sam soon got his wish. The car swung into an arc and jumped up an uneven incline, and the brakes squeaked as the car came to a stop. The rumbling muffler stilled when the driver killed the engine. Sam heard voices outside, but they were too far away for him to pick up what they said. On the one hand he wished they would come around to the trunk to talk. On the other, he was glad that they didn't, because then they might discover that he stowed away in the trunk. The voices seemed to move farther from the vehicle. It was time for him to get out of the trunk.

With slow, cautious movements, Sam lifted the trunk lid. He didn't see any legs through the gap, so he figured the coast was clear. He lifted the lid just enough to escape and he crouched behind the bumper until he got his bearings. Ahead of the car he saw a cinderblock building. It was a garage with two bays and an office with a large plate glass window. A sign above the bays announced that it was Shorty's Garage. The sea green paint peeled in spots and revealed a bright white underneath. The roof was made of corrugated tin. A window unit air conditioner dangled from a window alongside where the car was parked, and other than the window next to the door, it didn't appear to have any other openings.

To the south and west a line of thick evergreens and a variety of trees and scrub blocked the view. To the north, beyond a couple classic cars and a line of more trees he spied a swamp. An airboat parked half up on the land obscured Sam's view of its size. So there were ways to get out of there in a pinch. He just didn't want to do it until he knew what was going on, and that involved getting closer to the structure.

He scuttled to the side and flattened himself against the wall. From his vantage point Sam recognized the road. They were tucked away in the northwest part of the Miami area, beyond the suburbs in an area that was more Cracker than Cuban influenced. White redneck boys hung out here. At least he didn't see any meth labs, but the day was still relatively young.

Pulling out his phone, he texted Fiona. 'At Shorty's Garage, SR 25 N I75.' At least now someone would know where he was.

Sam couldn't hear the conversation inside the building, so he braved sneaking to the corner where the entrance stood open.

"You're sure that's Westen's car."

"I'm positive, Mr. Johnson," the driver responded. "The id number doesn't match, but you know, that was part of the plan, to switch 'em out so that Belliveau didn't get his hands on it."

A third voice said, "The only way we'll find out is if we tear the car apart, piece by piece. We'll find that chip somewhere. Westen was too clever to put it in a place that anybody could find it in an hour or two. Come on, let's get started."

"Corey's not here yet. We gotta wait for him. He's the man with the blowtorch experience."

"Yeah."

The three voices fell silent.

"What's so important about this chip anyway? Why do we have to go through all this trouble trying to find it?"

"It's a list of people that the government would pay a handsome price to get access to. People the CIA wants for capture, interrogation, maybe even assassinate. If we get that list, we'll be rich. Then I can open a legit shop and restore and sell more of these beauties."

"Seems like an awful lot of work to go through for money."

Johnson sighed. "That's why you're just my stooge, Lenny. You never see the big picture. This is about more than money. I have it on good word that a few of my old associates are on the list, and let's just say they're due a little payback."

Sam heard crunching gravel and the sound of a truck in need of a tune-up pulled in front of the office. The door slammed, and Sam realized that he'd stayed in one place too long. He pushed off of the wall and ran for the trees at the back of the property.

"Hey, who are you," a voice cried just before a bullet went whizzing past Sam's ear and embedded into the windshield of a cherry red Cadillac he used for cover. "Fellas, we got an intruder!"

Rushing through the tall grass toward the forest, if it could be called that with its skimpy trees mixed with old gnarled oaks, Sam heard his pursuers' legs swishing through the grasses after him. He considered heading for the swamp, but there wasn't enough time to get that airboat going for a clean escape. He would have to find a haven in among the trees. Glancing back Sam saw four men chasing him, one wearing a suit, not caring what the brush did to his fancy threads. The other guys were dressed in jeans and wife beaters with shirts hanging open.

One guy stumbled into a hole and screamed, "My ankle! Damn, I twisted it!"

Sam couldn't help but smile. One down, three to go. He turned back to where he was going and noticed that the landscape ahead took a sudden dive. He was running too fast to skid to a stop, so his only recourse was to take the leap. He went down into a shallow sinkhole, landing on a rock butt first, the shock running up his spine.

"He disappeared! Where'd he go?"

Sam whipped his head around and found a depression in the earth directly below the shelf from which he dropped. He scrambled and gathered up some brush as he settled into the recess. It wasn't much, but maybe it would be enough to get them off his back.

Johnson barked at his men. "He can't just disappear. Go down there you morons and find him."

"Yes sir."

Feet crunched through old leaves and pine needles, and Sam held his breath waiting for the men to pass. A pair of legs appeared and he reached out to grab the hem of the guy's jeans, pulling hard and throwing him off balance. He landed face first on the squishy ground, turned to face his attacker, and Sam launched himself out of his hiding place and took him down with one solid punch to the face. A bullet just missed Sam's shoulder, and he turned toward the second man. The big man lunged at him with a fist. Sam's head snapped back upon impact and he hit the dirt hard, stars floating in the air between him and the encroaching attackers.

He still had the presence of mind to kick out and catch the big guy in a vulnerable spot just below the knee, causing him to collapse and roll, giving Sam the chance to slam another fist into him, this time knocking him out. The other attacker made noises and was on his knees, but Sam sent a roundhouse kick into his midsection and laid him out flat.

"Nice work," Johnson said with a smirk. "If you weren't one of Michael Westen's friends, I'd try to recruit you."

"How do you know I'm a friend of Westen?" Sam managed to sound casual as he brushed himself off and stepped up the ravine to stand before Johnson.

"You're Sam Axe. I'm very familiar with Michael, his Irish Republican girlfriend Fiona, and all his friends and family." Johnson smirked. "For an old guy you can really kick it." The gun remained steady on Sam's chest as he spoke. "Now, you're going to do me a little favor, Mr. Axe."

"I don't feel like doing anybody any favors," Sam replied, glaring at the man.

"Well, that's your choice, but if you don't get into that building right now, you die. Simple as that. And I would bet that little honey of yours, Elsa, would be awfully sad if you were to take a bullet to the heart." Johnson's blue eyes were icy and all business. He gestured with the gun. "Go on now. You play nice, you get to go home when we're out of here with that list."

Hoping that Fiona got his text, Sam complied. The two guys he took out were on their feet again and followed Johnson into the building. He noted the hatred in their eyes and the grimaces on their faces. He wasn't looking forward to whatever Johnson had in store for him.

"Okay, check him, Lenny. Corey, tie him up when Lenny's done."

"Can I have a little fun with him?" Corey asked, flashing a grin that was missing a couple teeth.

"Just don't damage him too much. I might need him for leverage later," Johnson answered. He turned and left the building without another word.

"Stand there and don't move," Lenny ordered Sam. "And put your hands up."

For now, Sam would do as he was told, and hopefully Fiona and Jesse would arrive soon. He raised his arms and suffered Lenny's rough hands patting him down for weapons. Lenny found the 9mm in his waistband at his back and dropped it onto a nearby table. His wallet, a few lock picking tools, handcuffs, keys, and a pack of gum followed. Lenny sneered when he grasped Sam's right arm and removed his watch. It was expensive, a gift from Elsa, but he didn't bat an eyelash. He wouldn't let them know that it was worth more than sentiment.

A gunshot outside got everyone's attention. Lenny and Corey looked away for just a moment, long enough for Sam to grab Corey's gun and back off to a position where he could aim it at the two.

"Drop 'it."

Another shot echoed outside, and someone screamed. With any luck, that was the sound of his cavalry coming to his rescue. Corey and Lenny looked nervous about the shooting, and Sam used it to his advantage.

"Put the gun on the table and stand in that far corner."

"He can only shoot one of us," Corey muttered.

"Wanna bet," Sam barked.

Lenny fired at Sam, and he felt the sting of a near miss along his upper arm as he dodged to the right and got off a return volley. Lenny grabbed his shoulder and went down, and before Corey could get off a shot, Sam hit him in the chest. Not enough to kill him right away, but both were out of commission. Sam scooped up the contents of his pockets, shoved them into one, and left the building. Johnson blocked his way.

"Uh uh…."

He never got to finish what he wanted to say, because Sam slammed the butt of his gun into Johnson's face. The man fell to the ground, stunned. Sam glanced around and saw the third guy lay in the grass with two bullet holes in his chest and didn't appear to be breathing. Sam expected to see Fiona, but her car was nowhere in the area. He shook his head. He had no time to ponder where she might be, and if the coveted list was really hidden in the Charger parked next to Corey's truck, he needed to get that car away fast. Johnson fired at him as he slipped into the driver's seat, and a bullet struck the windshield, forming a huge spider crack in the center. Sam ignored the shot and pulled out his keys. If this was really Mike's car his spare key would work.

Johnson fired again as he closed in. The key slipped into the ignition, but it didn't turn. "Dammit," Sam muttered, and he closed his eyes, waiting for Johnson to drill a bullet through his head. He took one breath, then two, and nothing happened. Sam opened his eyes and found Johnson's shadow falling over him, his mouth agape.

"Your key. That key. It belongs to Westen's Charger, doesn't it?"

Sam eyed him. The barrel was only a couple inches from his cheek bone. Better to be honest, considering how the man took care of his own people. No doubt he'd be even less charitable with him. "It does. But it doesn't fit this lock."

Johnson's free hand slammed on the door frame and the momentum shook the entire vehicle. "Dammit! This isn't Westen's car! I was guaranteed that this was his car!"

"If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was his car too," Sam said. Not that he wanted to soothe Johnson's troubled mind. His statement served as a subtle psychological link that might keep him alive for a little longer.

Frustrated, Johnson banged on the hood. Then he aimed the gun at Sam again and said, "Get out of the car. Now."

"Okay, I'm getting out slowly." He opened the door and Johnson stepped back to allow him to step out of the vehicle. He soon found himself back in the garage office, cuffed with his own handcuffs, his arms wrapped around a pole. Johnson cleaned out his pockets and saw a message flash on Sam's phone, and from where he stood, Sam could see that it came from Fi, a response to his text.

"What the hell… you told someone where you were," Johnson growled and approached him with the gun held high and the barrel pressed into Sam's temple. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now and be done with you."

"Maybe it is Mike's car, and he just changed the locks," Sam suggested with a calm tone that amazed even him. With a cocked grin, he added, "You know how these old cars are, temperamental. Maybe he had trouble with the old ignition and replaced it and didn't tell me."

"My boss isn't going to be happy about this if this isn't really Westen's car. I need proof." Johnson paced the room, stepping over the two men on the floor. Corey remained motionless, but Lenny moaned and sat up, dragging his form to prop himself against the wall. He was a bleeding mess.

Sam glanced at his own arm where the bullet passed, and he was pleased to see that it didn't bleed but the skin was scraped and burned by the hot metal. He got lucky, real lucky. If Fi and some help didn't arrive soon, however, his luck would run out.

"I gotta think," Johnson said. "You stay here. If I come back and you're gone, the second I see you, you're dead. You got that, Axe?"

"I do." Sam swallowed and watched the man stomp out of the office. He got into the Charger and attempted to turn the key, but it wouldn't move, so he pulled out Sam's key, threw the keychain onto the floor mat, and slipped in the one that he knew worked. Johnson started up the car, backed out of the drive, and floored it once his tires hit the road.

The moment he knew Johnson was gone and wasn't coming back for awhile, Sam eyed the table nearby. All of his things were still on it. Lifting his leg, he hooked the toe of his shoe around one of the table legs and pulled. The furniture moved a few inches. He did the same thing with the other table leg he could reach and repeated the process until the table was only a few inches away. With each drag, the table vibrated, and Sam was afraid something vital would fall, but all the items were still on the surface. It just required him to lean to the left as far as he could and use his mouth to retrieve the lock picking tools.

Lenny watched him with interest. "You're a fool, mister. Johnson's gonna come back soon and he'll kill ya. He shot Johnny just 'cause he got himself tripped up in that hole. Corey and me are lucky he didn't kill us."

Sam dropped the tools into his hand and asked, "How is Corey?"

"Like you care. You're the one who shot him!"

"No offense, but you guys wanted to kill me." He worked a tool into the handcuff lock and moved it back and forth. "What'd you expect me to do, just stand there and become a target? No way, pal." A rasping sound rewarded his efforts and the cuff loosened. "There, easy peasy." He pulled away from the pole and with little effort unlocked the other cuff.

"Where you goin'," Lenny asked.

"Back to civilization, that's for damn sure," Sam replied. He picked up his phone and hit the speed dial. When Fiona answered, he spoke. "Fi, it's me."

"Sam, what's happening? Where are you?"

"Where are you right now?"

"We're on state road twenty five, nearing the freeway," she replied.

Sam grinned. "Great, you're almost here. You can come pick me up, and if the cops are with you they can take a couple of Johnson's men to the hospital."

"Who's Johnson," she asked.

"I'll explain when you get me out of here." Sam glanced out the front window as he talked with her. "He took the Charger, but I don't know when he'll be back. He's pretty freaked out that it isn't Mike's. His boss wanted a list that Mike supposedly has hidden in his car."

"The NOC list?"

"No, I think this is a different one," Sam replied. "Just get here."

"Almost there, Sam. Keep your pants on."

Chuckling, he replied, "There's only one woman I take my pants off for, sister, and you aren't the one. Hey, woah! You just went past!"

Sam heard squealing tires and less than a minute later Fiona's red Hyundai pulled into the drive with two police units and Detective Howard's car fanning out around her. He picked up his things and stuffed them into his pockets. "Well, good luck, fellas. I'm outta here." He walked out into the sunshine to meet Fiona as she got out of the car. Russ exited from the passenger side.

"Sam, you look like hell," Fiona chided and stepped forward, taking him into a quick embrace. "If you ever do something like that again, I swear I'll kill you myself." She squeezed just a little too hard for emphasis.

"Point taken, Fi," he managed to wheeze before she released him. "Russ, what are you doing here?"

Russ looked at him with regret and worry on his face. "Sam, we've gotta talk about that Charger. This whole thing has gotten too out of hand."

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll see when we get back to Miami. Come on."

Sam glanced at Fiona, but she appeared to be just as clueless. He followed Russ and Fiona to the car and Russ got in back, letting him ride up front with Fiona. Whatever was going on, Charlie must have known, because he let Sam go without asking him a single question.

He even waved and said, "I'll see you later, Sam."

"Can we talk about this on the way back," Sam asked.

"I think you're gonna wanna have a couple mojitos before you hear the whole story," Russ replied and fell silent.

Fiona and Sam glanced at each other. This did not sound good. Not good at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Hey, on the way back into town can we stop and get a bite? I'm hungry," Sam said.

"You almost got killed back there and you're worried about food?" Fiona shook her head. "I can't believe you sometimes!"

"A man's gotta eat, sister," Sam retorted. "Now that the adrenaline's worn off and I'm out of danger... I think," he paused and glanced at Russ before continuing. "All that scuffling worked up an appetite." He pulled out his phone. "That reminds me, I better call Elsa. We had a dinner date."

"Don't tell her anything," Russ admonished him with a tone that had Sam again wondering what this guy was about. He was pretty sure that Russ wasn't exactly who said he was, a businessman with a security firm. Companies like that were a dime a dozen in Miami, so why would a business based in Orlando cause him to come to Miami? Things were not adding up.

"Hey, I know better than that," Sam assured him. A smile lit up his face when Elsa picked up the phone. "Hi, baby, it's me, Sammy."

"Sam, where have you been? Are you on a job again?"

"Oh, you know me, honey, always into something." His smile widened. "Listen, I won't be home for dinner, and I know we had plans, but I'm sorry I can't make it."

She let out a resigned breath on the other end. "I suppose we have plenty of evenings together, so I shouldn't complain. I just don't want you to get into something so big that you take off and I never see you again. Can you promise me that won't happen?"

"You know I can't, but I can promise you that I try to avoid it." He hated these conversations. He knew how she felt about his activities, but yet she always supported him whether it was from a moral or financial standpoint. Some day, he would repay her for her patience.

"I know. Be careful, okay? Some guy was hanging around the hotel lobby today and I had to get my security on him. He wasn't an agent."

Looking concerned, Sam asked, "How could you tell?"

"He wasn't as polished as the agents who monitored me while you were gone. This guy was uncomfortable in his clothes, like he wasn't used to being dressed up in a suit. And he was just too... squirrelly, for lack of a better word." She paused. "I can't put my finger on it, Sam. I just knew when I saw him twice, once in the morning and when I left the restaurant after lunch. That's when I had security check him out."

"What did they find?"

"He took off like a rabbit and he must have had backup waiting, because they lost him. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"No, it's okay," he assured her. "If you see him again tomorrow, you call me right away, you got it?"

"So you're not coming home?" She sounded so disappointed, it almost broke Sam's heart.

"I hope to. I just don't know where this investigation is going. I have a new lead," he said as his eyes slid toward Russ again. "Don't worry, baby. I'm with Fi, I'll be fine."

Elsa laughed. "You're in good hands, then. I'll see you whenever you get home. Love you, Sammy."

"Love you too, baby. 'Night." He closed the connection. "So, where are we going?"

"Somewhere with a lot of privacy," Russ replied. "There's an office downtown, I can get something brought in, and we'll talk about this in a secure room."

That really didn't sound good. Sam fell silent, now and then exchanging worried glances with Fiona. She was uncharacteristically quiet the entire way, listening to Russ and driving to the location. They both knew the office building. It was where the CIA offices were kept. So Russ was one of them, a Fed. It was almost anti-climactic. Sam was expecting him to be some supreme bad guy or something, kidnapping him and Fi for his own dastardly gain. Instead, he was just another guy like Michael Westen doing... what? That remained to be seen.

Russ settled them into a small conference room decorated with warm tones and paintings of landscapes that picked up the colors in the furniture. Three couches formed a u-shape with a round coffee table in the center. The couches were soft, covered in a rusty red fabric, and the cushions nestled around the squatters. Sam tossed an earth tone throw pillow to the end of the couch and settled into the soft cushions. Fiona sat to his left on a more narrow couch.

Russ came into the room and approached a cabinet and opened the doors. He asked, "Anybody want a drink? We've got anything from water to beer. Sam, I can make a mojito for you if you like."

"You know a lot about me," Sam said. "I suppose you read my Agency file."

"Yeah, I did." Russ grinned, the gesture warm and not at all spy-like. "And yours, Fiona. I have to say, talking with Michael didn't hurt. He added the human element to my background on you two."

"So you are an agent with the CIA," Fiona said.

"Yes, I am." Russ set down a mojito on the coffee table in front of Sam and a bloody Mary in front of Fiona. He really did know them, which put Sam and Fiona on guard. Russ sat down in the couch across from Sam's with a beer. "My real name is Russell Belliveau. I'm an agent with the CIA, and until recently was assigned to the San Francisco office. After you were all recovered by the Agency and Michael went back in, he talked about having some chip with a lot of data he collected on enemies of the state."

"This chip that is hidden in the Charger somewhere," Sam said and took a sip of his drink. "Hey, not bad."

"I worked as a bartender for a few months at a strip club in Miami awhile back. It's classified."

Fiona and Sam nodded in understanding. Fiona spoke. "So Michael had this data. Why didn't he just share it with the Agency right away?"

Russ shrugged. "I suppose he was hoping to use it as some kind of leverage. Once the higher ups learned bits and pieces of what he had, they were willing to cut him another deal. Retrieve the list, give it to the Agency, and he could get some serious time shaved off his obligations to the CIA." Russ paused and met Fiona's eyes. "He could come home to you a lot sooner."

She gaped at the revelation and her heart skipped a beat. Michael was trying to get out like he promised, to be with her.

"He knows how you feel, Fiona, what you think. But it's not true. If it had been up to Michael, he wouldn't have gone back to spying. But he did it for you, to buy your freedom. To buy Sam's freedom, and Jesse's and Madeline's. You don't have a clue as to how deep you were in trouble. All of you could have gone away to prison for a very long time. Some of you for life." He glanced at Sam as if to emphasize his point.

Fiona sat frozen in place. She knew this was what Michael tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen. After time faded the pain a little, she began to understand the gravity of their situation. Michael did what he had to do to save them, and she was ungrateful and practically spat in his face. It was a good thing her friends still stood by her. As for Michael...

She lowered her gaze to her hands clasped in a nervous bundle on her knees. "Does Michael... does he..."

"He still loves you, Fiona," Russ answered with a tender smile. "Since he got back in, he and I have been working together and he talked about you a lot when we had moments where nothing was going on and we were supposed to get to know each other." He swallowed and continued. "I think his desire to get back home outweighed any tactical advantage he had with that list, and that's why he gave it up just before they sent him off on a mission that I helped prepare him for."

"They're not tossing him into a suicide mission, are they," Sam asked, his voice gruff with emotion.

"No. He should be checking in later to let me know his progress. He was going after one of the people on that list. It was a coincidence, really. Between that and his need to get out, everything just came together in a perfect collision, I guess."

Someone knocked on the closed door, and Russ got up to answer it. "Your order, Sir."

"Thanks, Jenny." He took a bag from her. "You can go home now. We'll be done in a little while."

"Alright, Mr. Belliveau. Have a good night."

"You too, Jenn." Russ closed the door and set the bag on the center of the table. "I took the liberty of ordering from Carlito's. Hope you don't mind."

"I didn't know they delivered," Sam said as he leaned forward and pulled out a container. He opened it and knew it was Fiona's. "Here, this is yours, I think. The tuna with that crap, whatever it is."

An amused smirk on her face, Fiona took the container and grabbed a set of plastic utensils. "Thank you, Sam. And thank you, Russ, for thinking of us."

"You're welcome." He grabbed his meal and the three talked while they ate. "So, anyway, this whole business with the Charger was an effort to throw off some people who are interested in getting a hold of this list and selling it off to the highest bidder. We don't know who these people are, and it's my job to find them."

"So, you were playing some kind of shell game with them with the Chargers, huh?" Sam said and bit into his Cuban sandwich and washed it down with a sip of his drink.

"In a sense. The plan was to get them running around looking for the right one, and the activity would be picked up by the authorities. As risky as it was for you to get into that trunk, Sam, that move made my job easier." Russ shook his head. "Now we have Johnson and his men, and if they know what's good for them, they'll cough up who their boss is. We didn't have that chance before."

Sam nodded. "Glad I could help. So where is the chip, really?"

Russ replied with a smile, "It's in Orlando, in Michael's Charger."

"What? You've got his car," Fiona asked.

"You had it all along?" Sam stared at him.

"Yeah. About a month ago, Michael gave up the location of the list, and the Deputy Director assigned me to pick up the car and take it somewhere safe while we set up an elaborate game to flush out the people who were trying to get it." Russ paused to take a bite and wash it down with his beer.

"Can you tell us where it is," Sam asked.

"Sorry, no." Russ shook his head. "Although, I may have you two come with me in a couple of days and get it. We want to apprehend the boss first, if we can, and make sure that no one is still after the list."

"Makes sense." Sam nodded and glanced at Fiona.

"I think we should go tomorrow and let them come at us. We'll be ready," she said with a sly smile.

Russ studied her and a slow grin crossed his face as he laughed. "You're even gutsier than I imagined. No wonder Michael loves you." He shook his head. "I couldn't picture him with a woman who was any less than who he is. He warned me that you might want to jump in feet first, and I doubted that, but well, here you are proving me wrong. I like you, Fi. Mind if I call you that?"

"Not at all, if I can call you Russ," Fiona replied, smiling. "We should come up with a plan before we do this. If we just drive up to Orlando, pick up the Charger, and come back, we could easily be ambushed on the freeway."

"Right, so we have to map out some side routes just in case," Sam said. "What kind of backup can your people provide?" Before Russ could reply, he turned to Fiona. "We should probably get Jesse involved. You know he'd be disappointed if we had a big operation going and he wasn't asked to join the dance."

"Uh, woah there, Sammy," Russ said, getting the couple's attention, with Sam raising an eyebrow at him. "This is my operation. I'll come up with a strategy and you guys are along to help. We don't need to be getting Jesse into this, or Michael's mom. You've got the Agency on your side, not working against you. Remember that."

"You'll have to pardon me," Sam said and took a long sip of his drink. "There was a time when we didn't know who we could trust outside of our little circle."

"Understandable." Russ locked eyes with Sam. "I swear to you, I'm not your enemy. I'm a friend who wants to help you, and Michael, and I want to nail these people. But we have to think this out and do it right." He settled back into the couch and drained his beer. "In the morning we'll discuss this."

"How about we all meet at the hotel for breakfast," Sam suggested.

"Sure. But why," Russ asked, leaning forward, his elbows planted on his knees.

"When I talked to Elsa, she told me that some guy was hanging around the hotel lobby yesterday. Her security tried to grab him but he took off." Sam reported everything Elsa told him. "I'm hoping that we can nab him before we go on this trip. Who knows, he might be able to give us some intel."

Russ's head bobbed. "I like that plan. Alright, we'll meet at nine, at the hotel."

Sam and Fiona were finished with their meals, so the two left the CIA offices. A security guard escorted them to the lobby, and then they were alone.

"I'll give you a ride back to the hotel," Fiona said.

"Thanks, Fi." Sam kept an eye all around them and didn't stop until he was back at the hotel. Even as he crossed the lobby to the elevators, he watched the patrons, searching for someone suspicious. There was no one. With a sigh of relief, he got into the elevator, swiped his keycard over the pad, and the elevator rose to the penthouse. It was a new security feature that Sam had instituted after he returned from running with Mike and his friends. It was at great expense, but now he was glad he convinced Elsa that it was necessary. He didn't like that people from the wrong side were on his turf.

"You're home," Elsa said with surprise and a smile as he entered the penthouse suite. She got up from where she sat on the couch reading and met him in the middle of the room with arms wide open and her lips planting a kiss on his cheek.

He kissed her lips before replying. "My meeting was just that, a meeting with dinner. Nothing special. But tomorrow Fi and I have something going on with the CIA. All I can tell you is that we're going out of town and should be back by evening if everything goes according to plan."

"If everything goes according to plan?" Elsa looked up at him and asked, "When is this going to end? I hate all this uncertainty and secrecy."

"When Mike comes home, baby. Until then, don't worry about it." He held her tight and kissed Elsa until all her worries faded into the background, and he led her to the bedroom. "It's been a long day. I'm ready for bed."

"What happened to your shirt," she asked, seeing the rend in his sleeve. Then she gasped. "Sammy, did you get shot?"

"It's nothing, punkin. It just missed me." He turned her out of his arms and prodded her into the bedroom. "Don't worry about it."

"You should put something on that or it'll get infected," she advised with worry creasing her brow.

An impish smile crossed his face. "You can play nurse if you like. I'll let ya."

She laughed and caressed his face. "I'll take good care of you, sweetheart. You just get undressed and I'll be right there."

Elsa hurried into the bathroom and rooted around in the medicine cabinet for the things she needed to take care of the wound on Sam's arm. After all this time she knew which ones were serious and which injuries required just a little bit of attention. This was more on the end of low maintenance, but she would milk it for all it was worth if only to give him a little tenderness. When he walked in the door he looked exhausted, and she couldn't imagine what he'd been through. Didn't want to, really. Maybe some day he would tell her everything when she could understand why he did this to himself.

Elsa entered the bedroom and in the lamp light she studied her man. He lay on his back on his side of the bed, one arm flung over his head, the other crossing his stomach, and his legs spread shoulder width apart. His bare chest rose and fell with soft even breaths, a sure sign that he was already asleep. She brought his arm down to care for his wound and he stirred but didn't awaken. After she applied an adhesive bandage, she combed his hair back with her hand and gave his forehead a kiss before turning off the light and getting into bed. When she snuggled up against him he moved his arm and put it around her, but then he went back to sleep. Sometimes he had nightmares of things that happened in the past, but that night he slept like the dead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The next morning Elsa joined Sam at his meeting with Russ and Fiona. The man who resembled Michael a bit was taken aback by the woman sitting in the chair Sam offered her at the table before seating himself to her left. Russ and Fiona sat across from the couple, and Russ kept his eyes on Elsa as he leaned back in his chair.

Sam, seeing the distrust in Russ's body language, spoke first. "Russ, this is Elsa Darabant, my lady and owner of this hotel. Elsa, this is Russ Belliveau." He leaned closer to her and spoke softer. "He's a CIA agent."

"What does a... uh, Mr. Belliveau have to do with what you're working on? Don't tell me they recruited you," Elsa said, the tightness in her voice almost cutting off her ability to breathe. "Last night you told me not to worry. Well, now I'm worried."

Everyone ordered coffee and tea, and the table remained in an uncomfortable silence until the server hurried away to get their beverages.

"I haven't been recruited," Sam replied, voice low so only the table's occupants could hear him. "After seeing everything Mike's been through, you think I'd do that? Really, Elsa?"

"No." She glanced at her nervous hands playing with the wide gold ring around the napkin. "I don't know what to think when you come home exhausted and almost shot." She closed her mouth as the server returned.

"Would everyone like to order?" The four made it short and simple, and she disappeared again.

"Ms. Darabant, Sam and Fiona have been instrumental in my investigation, Sam especially." Russ paused, leaned closer, and his blue eyes softened. "In a couple of days it'll probably all be over and Sam can go back to whatever he was doing before he and Fiona got sucked into this."

Elsa wasn't satisfied by his answer, but she knew it was the best she would receive. She asked, "Did Sam tell you about the man who was here yesterday snooping around the hotel and loitering in the lobby for far too long?"

"He mentioned it. If he showed up again could you point him out?"

"I can do better than that," Elsa replied with a smirk as she reached into her briefcase. She pulled out a set of five 8 by 10 photographs. "I picked these up at the security office this morning. The photos were taken off our cameras, and there are time and date stamps on them. He was out at the pool, in the lobby, the bar, the restaurant, and he went up to the ninth floor."

Russ stared at her. "You have some good cameras," he said as he studied the photos.

"Thanks. Sam helped me upgrade our systems here not too long after we met. Since he's been home, we've implemented a few other upgrades," she announced and her eyes turned to Sam with admiration in them. "This is probably one of the safest hotels in South Beach, if not the safest. But it disturbs me that this man was able to wander around so freely and get up to the ninth floor without anyone asking him questions. My chief of security is sifting through some other files to find pictures of him on that floor to determine where he was. Maybe that'll help you make sense of why he was here."

"I've been staying here the past couple of nights, on the ninth floor," Russ declared. "Room nine nine-teen."

"You don't recognize this guy," Sam asked as he took the photos from Russ and studied each one before handing them to Fiona.

"Nope. He may have something to do with this, or another case. I don't know."

"One thing I remember from yesterday, was that one of the guys said they were trying to keep the Charger from you," Sam said. "It didn't make sense to me at the time. Did Johnson and those guys know you were a Fed and that you were onto them? Maybe this guy in the hotel was sent to find you and take you out."

"That could be," Russ said. "Truth is, there isn't much I can do about this guy at the moment. We have to come up with a plan to go to Orlando, get the..." He hesitated and glanced at Elsa before he resumed, leaving out the crucial piece of information. "Thing, and come back to Miami."

"Oh, so this was supposed to be a strategy session," Elsa said as the realization hit her. "Don't you think it's a little risky to be talking out here?"

"That's why we're off to the side," Russ countered. He knew she was right, but sometimes plans had to be made in less than secure locations. If he had any hope of seeing who this mystery man was, sitting in the hotel restaurant was as good as any place to observe the lobby while conducting business.

"Well, I suggest you just spend this time with small talk, and after breakfast, you're welcome to meet in my office," Elsa offered, surprising everyone at the table. She leaned forward, closing the space between her and Russ, her voice low and menacing. "If you're going to do something that endangers the man I love, I'm going to do everything I can to minimize the risk. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Russ leaned back, creating more space between them, and he looked at her with a new respect. This woman understood the dangers of the spy world. She didn't like that her beau was involved with it, but she loved and respected him enough to let him do what he did. A slow smile crossed Russ's face. "I like you, Elsa. You're a tough cookie."

"You have to be when you're a business owner," Sam said, his voice oozing with pride. "And the hotel business can be a killer, right honey?"

The defensive stance in Elsa retracted like a cat's claws when he spoke, and she looked at Sam, threaded her fingers through his on the table, and gave him a private smile that spoke volumes. Looking back at Russ, she said, "You'll have to forgive me if I turn into a she-devil now and then. Sam hasn't told me everything about his work, but I know enough that every night he isn't home with me I worry." She sighed and gave her cup of coffee some attention. "So, are you anticipating being home today?"

"That's the plan if we can locate what we're looking for," Russ replied.

"You don't want to bring the Charger back to Miami and then look," Fiona asked. "It's Michael's car. It should be here."

"There are already two similar cars in impound." Sam shook his head. "It could get confusing. I know my head's spinning when I try to think about this whole scheme you had going, Russ."

Russ laughed. "Tell me about it!" Then he sobered and continued. "No, I want to keep Michael's car in Orlando, to keep it safe. It's in a secure location and I want it to stay that way until he's finished with the agency and he comes back to Miami. I'll personally drive it down here myself and present it to him."

"It's just a car," Elsa broke in. "What's the big deal?"

"Just a car?" Russ gaped at her. "Ms. Darabant, it's not my car, but it brings back a lot of memories. The first car I fixed up was a Charger just like it," he revealed with a small smile that grew as he spoke. "Only mine was bright red. That baby purred like a kitten and sparkled like a... well, it was pretty hot. It was a chick magnet." He chuckled.

"So you also have emotional ties to a Charger," she said with a nod. "I suppose I just see cars as a way to get around, but that's just me."

"Excuse me, Madame." An older man in the hotel's dress uniform sidled up to Elsa's elbow and spoke.

"Yes, Lawrence?"

"There's a Mr. Hathaway on the phone for you, and he was quite adamant about speaking with you now." The man looked apologetic, his gloved hands clasped into a ball in front of him.

Elsa sighed, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and dropped it next to her half eaten breakfast. "Well, that's my cue. I'm sorry, I really do have to take this call." She leaned to her left and kissed Sam's cheek. "My offer still stands, though. If you want to use my office or one of the conference rooms to work on your plan, let me know."

"Thanks again, Ms. Darabant," Russ said with a grateful tone.

She smiled at him. "You can call me Elsa, Mr. Belliveau." She stood and held out her hand to him.

Wiping his on his napkin, Russ shook her hand. "You've got a deal, Elsa. Call me Russ."

"I will, Russ. You make sure my Sammy comes back in one piece, or I'll be calling you a whole lot of other less complimentary names." Her smile held some bite.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Russ responded, "I'll do my best, Elsa."

"Good. See you all later." She turned and walked away with Lawrence tagging along beside her, getting her up to speed on the conversation he had with Mr. Hathaway.

"She's a barracuda, Sam. You better be careful with her." Russ remarked as he turned his attention to his meal.

Sam laughed. "Don't you worry, I know how to tame her. She loves me, what can I say?" He sobered as he picked up his fork. "She worries too much sometimes, just because she doesn't know what we're doing. I don't tell her anything, and her imagination runs wild. If I tell her enough to try to ease her mind, she wants to know more and more, and then I have to be careful to squelch her imagination without giving away anything vital. It's a fine line I walk, let me tell you."

"It's never easy being in a relationship with a spy," Russ agreed, not knowing that his words hit Fiona square in the gut.

"I know that too well," she said and fell into silence.

Russ sighed. "Let's talk about what we're going to do today."

"There's one thing I'd like to ask you before we start plotting and planning," Fiona said, getting Russ's attention. "Why didn't Michael tell you exactly where the chip is in the Charger?"

"He wanted to, but we were interrupted by someone who had no business hearing that information," Russ replied. "Someone within the Agency that allied with Card, but claims to be all about the Agency and the government and what's best for the people." He snorted.

"You think this person might be on the list," Fiona asked.

"Possibly."

"So you understand how difficult it is to trust those around you." Fiona gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm starting to believe you, Russ."

He smiled. "I'll take that as a good thing."

Sam's phone beeped and he picked it out of his pocket, frowning as he glanced at the screen. "Elsa says our guy is in the lobby again. He watched her like a hawk as she went to her office."

"Which guy," Russ asked and turned his head as if looking around in a casual manner.

"He's wearing a light blue suit with a white shirt," Sam answered as another text came in. "That must be our man over there, trying to hide behind the tourist guide."

Russ caught sight of him and turned white. "That's him, Sam. Agent Brandon Green, the guy who tried to hear what Michael told me about the chip in the Charger."

"What would he be doing here?" Sam kept the tension out of his voice. "Hoping to follow us?"

"I don't know." Russ glanced at Fiona, then Sam. "I'm calling this in."

Sam stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Can you trust your own people, I mean, the Agency?"

"Yes. Like I said, Michael is working with me, and while he's cleaning up from the outside in, I'm working the inside outward. It's like trying to untangle a spider web. It's too intricate and sticky, and has to be done delicately." He paused and looked at the two faces staring back at him. "I know whom I can trust within the agency."

"I've never known anyone able to deconstruct a spider web," Fiona declared with a seriousness in her eyes. "What makes you think that you and Michael can do it?"

"We're making progress," Russ assured her. "I'm sorry, that's all I can say."

Sam nodded, glancing at Fiona. She knew as well as he did how likely it would be that they would never get the whole truth on what went down with Card. As frustrating as it was, Sam was a little glad. He knew enough about treachery in government. He could put two and two together and have an idea, but if he knew what it all added up to, he would probably lose all faith in his country. In some cases, ignorance was bliss. Besides, at the moment, he and Fi had enough to worry about with helping this CIA agent and Mike.

"Okay, I texted my team, and they'll take care of him. We're supposed to just stay here and pretend that we don't know we're being watched."

"Easier said than done." Sam rose from the table and with a cocked smile said, "Let's go to Elsa's office. That'll be intriguing enough for him to want to stick around until your guys get here."

"It'll allow us more privacy to plan, too," Fiona added.

"You bet," Sam glanced at the bill that the server left at the table. He signed it, mentally calculated a tip, and dropped the cash on the table.

"Your lady makes you pay for your meals," Russ asked, incredulous.

"Nah. That's just for accounting purposes. I give the employees a tip like anybody else. They really bust their butts for that cash," Sam declared as he walked away from the table.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Axe," the server called after him with a warm smile on her face.

Sam led the trio across the lobby and down a short hall to a door. He passed the receptionist who gave him a flirty smile and returned to her typing.

"Elsa's not busy," Sam said as he grabbed the door handle and entered the office.

"How do you know?" Russ followed, puzzled at how he knew.

He glanced at Russ and answered his question. "If she'd been on the phone or something, the secretary would have given me a signal."

"I take it you're ready to begin planning your secret operation," Elsa said as she logged out of her computer, picked up the laptop, and headed for the door. "Perfect timing, since I have to meet a potential client in the lounge." She passed Sam and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Will I see you tonight?"

He returned the kiss, slipped an arm around her waist to stop her, and replied. "Maybe. It all depends on how long it takes us to get to Orlando, pick up what we're going there for, and get back."

"I could lend you my plane and you could fly up there." She suggested and added, "It would take less time and be more secure."

"That's a good point." Sam turned to Russ. "Well, what do you think?"

"I could get an Agency plane..." Russ began, but Fiona interrupted him.

"No, this is perfect," she said with a grin. "An Agency plane could be bugged or maybe even tampered with."

"So could your lady's plane," Russ countered as he looked at Sam and Elsa.

"We'll check it out before we leave," Sam parried. "I think it's a great idea."

"And I agree." Fiona nodded, a determined tone in her voice. "The sooner we get this done, the closer Michael is to finishing this." She paused and swallowed a small lump in her throat. "Russ, you don't know how long I've waited for him to be free."

"My wife has no problem with me being in the CIA, except for those times I leave the country," Russ admitted. "But then, I was never burned and never had to fight and claw my way back into an Agency that disowned me based on one man's lies. And to make it worse, the man was his trainer, like his second father." Russ shook his head in sympathy for Michael and his predicament. "I wouldn't wish anything like that on anybody." He stood in thought for a moment, nodded, and agreed to the plan. "Okay, let's do this. Ms. Dar... Elsa, how long will it take for your plane to be ready?"

"I can call now and probably by the time you get to the airport they'll have a flight plan and take off time for you." She turned back to her desk and got on the phone. The three waited while she spoke with someone on the other end and arranged for the flight. When she hung up, she smiled at them. "You're all set. Good luck, and hopefully when you return tonight we can have a celebratory dinner."

"Thanks, sweetheart," Sam said as he took her into his arms and kissed her, a soft, sweet press of lips that wasn't too out of line in front of Fiona and Russ. "You just bottle the rest of that up for later tonight." He winked, she ran her hand over his back, a wordless agreement, and she let him go.

By the time Fiona, Russ, and Sam exited Elsa's office, the spy was gone from the lobby. Russ's phone beeped and he showed his friends the text. 'Mission accomplished. Another one down.' Russ sighed in relief.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The flight would be short, not even time to grab a beer if Sam would have been so inclined. Drinking was the last thing on his mind after yesterday's harrowing trip in the trunk and almost getting killed. His thoughts wandered to Elsa and her shock when she caught him in the shower that morning, seeing all the bruises. Fortunately his clothes covered up most of them now, and in a few days he would have no reminders of his impetuous act.

It was incredibly foolish. He had a tracker on him, and he should have just stuck it to the underside of the bumper and let Johnson take the car. But trackers don't seat and engage themselves. He had no time, just long enough to decide to take the chance. The corner of his mouth tipped up into a smile. Mike would have done something similar given the same set of circumstances, and Sam and Fiona would have been upset with him. He released a soft sigh, missing his friend.

"I wish Michael was here," Fiona muttered as if she'd read his thoughts. She sat in a seat across the aisle, and Russ sat opposite her with a table between them, a deck of cards laid out for solitaire. He seemed unfazed by the mission. Sam understood that quiet internalizing while to the world one looked calm and oblivious. Fiona was more like a rubber band stretched to its limits, dying to be released.

"Russ," Sam spoke, getting his attention. "You know where Mike is right now?"

Russ glanced up from his game with an incredulous look. "Sam, you know I can't tell you that, even if I wanted to."

Shrugging, Sam replied, "I know. I figured it didn't hurt to ask." He paused and took a different approach. "Have you heard from him?"

"Last night he called, and I gave him an update on our investigation." Russ reported with a smile at Fiona. "He had to be careful about what he said, but he did mention one thing, a clue, I guess." He set down the cards and continued. "Michael said something about a tube being stuck. Does that make sense?"

"What kind of tube? Did he say," Sam asked.

"No. I didn't have time to ask. I'm sorry. I have a feeling it would have made our search a lot easier if he could have."

"No doubt." Sam glanced at Fiona.

She was deep in thought, and a sudden light appeared in her expression. "I think I know what he was talking about." She leaned forward and turned toward Sam. "You remember when I was abducted?"

"A couple of times, at least." Sam nodded, urging her to continue. "Which one?"

"I'm talking about when you bugged that tube of lipstick for me and set it on the tire where I could pick it up." With a smile, she added, "After the job, I was getting something out of my purse and the tube fell out, rolled into the seat crack, and we never saw it again. Michael tried to get it out, but it was as like it disappeared."

"Why so concerned about a tube of lipstick," Sam asked.

"He wanted his bug back," Fiona answered with a smirk. "He didn't care about the lipstick."

"That was my bug, sister, not Mike's."

"Anyway, the point is, I think that Michael is trying to say that we need to search in the nooks and crannies of the seats." Fiona let out a satisfied sigh and grinned. She hadn't looked that pleased in awhile.

"Seems too easy," Sam said. "That would be one of the first places anyone would look."

"Yes, but you know how tough it is to find a quarter that drops in a seat crack," Russ countered. "It's like the thing goes into a black hole." He scooped up the cards and tapped them into a stack as he spoke. "That's it then. We land, get to the Charger, and take out the seats, every one of them."

"Where is it right now," Fiona asked, glancing out the window at the city that seemed to appear out of a mist as the jet descended from the patchy clouds.

"I've got a buddy who's been keeping a really good eye on it. He works at the studios as a transportation wrangler, and he's had the Charger stored in with all the other picture cars." Russ grinned. "Isn't that brilliant? There's a stock of about fifty of them and it's easy to get it lost in that much steel."

"Clever," Fiona remarked. "I just hope that it's really safe there."

"You'll see in a little while." Russ smiled, pleased with his plan. "We'll have full use of the studio garage, and my buddy promised complete privacy. It's a weekend so there aren't likely to be any crews back in that area."

The sleek jet landed and taxied to a private hangar. A tan sporty sedan waited for them, and Russ took the wheel while Fiona climbed in back and Sam took the front passenger seat. The agent drove them to the studios and flashed a special pass to get inside the gate. The guards didn't ask them to sign in, just lifted the gate and let them through it.

"Well, that was easy," Sam muttered. "Considering where we are, that pass must have some magic in it."

Chuckling, Russ replied, "I don't know about that. Del just told me that it would get me to anywhere on the property that I wanted to go."

"Gee, Maddie would have loved that, huh Fi," Sam said with a soft laugh. "She adores Disney World."

Russ nodded. "One of the perks of living in this area is having the park close by, but I think my wife is Disneyed out. She took the kids when they were younger, but now they're grown, and…." He fell silent, the impact of time away from his family taking its toll.

Russ took them on a seemingly endless drive through backlots and past sound stages until he reached a large warehouse like building. He parked in a spot near a large sliding door, got out, and with Fiona and Sam following, he approached a smaller entryway. He knocked, and from inside they heard someone invite them in, so he turned the knob and entered.

The three found themselves in a small room with four desks in it. Only one was occupied, and the man sat typing at a keyboard. He looked up. "Russ, hey, you came back. I was beginning to think you were gonna leave me that sweet ride."

"Not in a million years. My friends would string me up if I tried," Russ laughed as he replied. "Del, these are my friends, Sam and Fiona. Sam, Fi, this is Del, my buddy the transportation wrangler."

"Nice to meet you guys," Del said, looking uncomfortable. "I suppose you're going to want the Charger right now."

"Yes. Is the work room ready?" Russ studied him, realizing that something was wrong. His usually cheerful friend paled at the mention of the car. "Del? Did something happen to the car?"

"No, the car is fine!" He jumped and turned toward a door leading outside, a different door from where they came in. Over his shoulder, he said, "Follow me."

Del led the group to a street lined with houses representing a nicely manicured subdivision. A large group of people and equipment blocked the end of a curve, highlighted by a boom camera soaring over the mass. A cry of "Action!" drifted on the slight breeze.

"I thought you said nobody was working today, Del," Russ said with anxiety in his voice.

"They're trying to finish up. Production is behind schedule, and the picture car they had wasn't... acceptable... so..." He stopped at the edge of the group, letting the sight of the Charger do the talking for him.

"Oh great," Sam whispered. "We just have to hope they're done soon so we can get into it."

Russ gave them a quiet sign as they melded into the fringe of the film crew. From where they stood they couldn't hear the actors' dialogue on the set, but they saw their quarry glinting in the sunlight. Sam held up his phone and snuck a picture. There was no way Mike would believe that his car wound up in a movie or a television show. Patience dwindled while they waited for the filming to complete. Afterwards, en masse the crew turned from the set and packed up gear, preparing to move it somewhere else. The only thing that concerned Sam, Fiona and Russ was the Charger and where it was going.

Del moved forward. He spoke with someone on the set before continuing to the vehicle. Catching up to him, Fiona asked, "Who gave you permission to use Michael's car in a movie?"

"It's a TV show," Del corrected. "It's just in this one scene and they won't need it again. I promise." He huffed at Fiona's glare. "What'd you expect me to do when they asked for a car that fit the Charger's description? I couldn't say no, or I'd be out of a job and you'd be out of luck."

"He's got a point, Fi." Sam squinted at the car. It was Mike's, he was certain this time. There was a feeling, like an aura surrounding it. "So, can we get this baby back to the shop or wherever and get to business?"

"I'll drive it over there," Del volunteered.

"I'll go with you," Sam said, giving the guy a slit-eyed glare. He didn't trust him.

"I have no problem with that. We can all go together."

Everyone got into the Charger, and when a path was clear for him to move, Del drove to the back of the warehouse where the other cars were stored. He parked it in the middle of a well-appointed mechanic shop.

As he got out of the car, Del said, "Have at it. If there's anything you need, just let me know."

"Thanks, man," Russ said as he reached for a wrench.

Fiona, Sam, and Russ spent the rest of the morning removing all the seats from the Charger. The front bucket seats were cleared and Fiona took on the task of putting them back together. She didn't want Michael to come home and find things in disarray, so she put a lot of love into restoring the seats. Sam hefted them inside the car and she reattached them.

The three forgot about lunch and kept working as if obsessed with finding that chip. It was late afternoon, they were tired and sweaty in the hot building, but no one wanted to be the one to throw in the towel.

"Oh, hey, I think I found something," Russ exclaimed. "Ow, something pricked me. Help me out here, Sam."

Sam joined Russ at the end of the bench seat. It was turned upside down on a work bench and the two had been inspecting the stuffing between the frame and springs. "What'd you find?"

Russ pulled his fingers from a space between the frame and the stuffing. "I found this." He held up a thin metal box about the size of a stick of gum. His index finger was bleeding. "I must have poked myself on something sharp in there."

Sam took the slim box from Russ. "You better get a bandage for that, pal." He watched as Russ turned pale before his eyes, and his breathing quickened and became shallow. Concerned, he tucked the box into his shirt pocket and asked, "Russ, are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so." He stared at his finger as if he'd never seen it bleed before. "I just don't like blood, that's all."

"You're in a bad profession then, my friend." Sam smirked, but he also took a step closer to Russ. As Sam closed the distance, he barked, "Fi, call for help."

She stared at Russ as his eyes rolled up and he dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Sam was there to catch him and lower him to the floor.

Looking up at Fiona, Sam noticed she still hadn't done anything. "Fi, call for an ambulance!"

Before she could dial, Russ's friend Del came into the work area. He saw Russ down and Sam laying him out. "What happened?"

Sam replied. "It doesn't matter what happened. What does matter is that he's going into shock."

"Okay, I'll get help." Del got on his walkie talkie. "This is Del in transpo. Need an ambulance at the warehouse."

'Ten-four. Ambulance on its way."

"We have an on-site medical facility that can handle simple stuff, but they also have an ambulance just in case," Del explained as his attention fixed on Russ.

"Do you think Michael planted a poisonous booby trap," Fiona asked from her position kneeling on the other side of Russ.

"I don't know. I wouldn't advise looking to find out," Sam replied.

"The doctors will start asking questions if it's poison," Fiona retorted.

"We'll figure it out later."

The siren cut off further conversation. That and the fact that Russ had stopped breathing. The paramedics arrived and found Fiona giving him artificial respiration and Sam checking his pulse, so when they took over he was able to tell them what information they knew. Afterwards, they could only stand and watch them work and take Russ to the hospital.

"Where is he going," Fiona asked.

"Orlando General," the paramedic replied before getting into the vehicle and driving away with sirens blaring.

The sound died, and Sam and Fiona found themselves alone. Del was nowhere to be found. Sam stood with hands on hips surveying the mess inside the work shop, assessing and sensing that something wasn't right, but too concerned about Russ to dwell on it long. "I guess we better get that seat installed in the Charger, find the hospital, and go see how Russ is doing before we go back to Miami."

"Agreed. Do you really think we should leave the Charger here with Russ?" Fiona's nose crinkled as if she thought the idea was disgusting. "It doesn't feel right, Sam."

He let out a long sigh before replying. "I think you're right. Let's take the rental car to the airport and tell the flight crew that they can fly Elsa's plane back to Miami. Then we'll drive the Charger home."

The two put the car back together after carefully locating the source of Russ's problem, a small vial with an even smaller hypodermic needle attached. "What was Michael thinking? Either of us could have pricked ourselves on that."

"This list must be pretty hot to risk us falling into his booby trap," Sam said. He patted his pocket, assuring himself that the box was still there. "You know, I never even looked to see if it's in this thing." He pulled it out of his pocket and found a small catch, unfastened it, and opened the lid. A small square piece of flat silicon rested inside the container. "This must be it. Okay Fi, I want you to put this somewhere safe, and I have just the place. Turn around."

"Turn around. What..."

"Just do it, please."

Fiona complied and Sam took out a pen knife. He reached for the collar of her t-shirt and slit the stitches just enough to tuck the chip into the folds where the collar met the top of the fabric shirt back.

"There. It's a tight fit, so the threads should hold until we get back." He scooped her hair in his palm and flipped it over the back of her shirt. "No one will ever suspect it's there." He smiled.

"I have to admit, you have your moments of cleverness, Sam," Fiona said with an impish smile as she rearranged her long locks. "Let's go see Russ and go home."

Finding Orlando General wasn't as easy as they'd hoped, as their first inquiry produced an answer they didn't expect. The woman in the mini-mart said, "We don't have an Orlando General Hospital."

"You're sure," Sam asked, leaning a hand on the counter and giving her a charming but probing expression.

"Positive, mister. I'm sorry."

"Where's the nearest hospital then," Fiona asked.

She pointed them to the hospital, but when they arrived they didn't find Russ. No one matching his description had been brought into the emergency room.

"I'm not liking this, Fi. Either Russ was playing us, or..."

"Someone got to him, thinking he had the chip," Fiona finished, her head shaking. "We need to pay Russ's wife a little visit."

"Is this really a good time? We don't know where he is, or if he's okay, and all you'll do is give her a heap of anxiety," Sam lectured her. "No, we need to get that chip back to Miami, into the Agency's hands, and then we'll look for Russ."

"He could be God knows where by then," Fiona argued. "His trail will have gone cold."

"Considering we have no trail at the moment, it can't get much colder."

Fiona let out a breath of annoyance. "You're right. Fine, we'll go back to Miami first."

"Now you're thinking clearly." Sam grinned, but quickly sobered. "Look, I'm just as worried about Russ as you are. If there's any way, we'll find him. I promise."

"Quit yammering, and let's get a move on." Fiona strode to the Charger, yanked open the passenger door, and got in.

With a sigh, Sam left the hospital and followed her. He fired it up, found the freeway, and made a straight run for Miami with stops for gas and a pee break. It was early evening when they returned and Sam drove to the CIA offices. He called ahead and was told that agents were waiting, and the sooner they got that chip out of their custody and in its rightful place, the better. If Russ was poisoned for his involvement, Sam didn't want Fiona or himself to be the next targets.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sam and Fiona arrived long after office hours, so a man in a dark suit waited for them at the entrance. Sam recognized him as one of the agents who escorted their team to meet Michael after he rejoined the Agency and they were released. Nodding at the two visitors, the man said, "Welcome. Follow me, please."

"We've been doing a lot of following lately," Fiona muttered as she walked beside Sam through the empty lobby. "Just once I'd like to lead."

"Be careful what you wish for. You might get it," Sam teased.

The three entered an elevator and the agent pressed the third floor button. The car moved and soon dropped them off on another seemingly deserted floor. The agent turned left, passing several doors before stopping at a small office near the end of the hall. He turned and took up a guarding stance. "In here, please." He inclined his head toward the open door.

"Thanks." Sam placed his hand on Fiona's back and guided her to enter the office. He followed and looked around.

The room was empty, but the computer on the desk was active and locked. The surface held stacks of folders and loose papers, which was a sure sign that someone was there. Sam knew the Agency kept a clean desk policy when offices were unoccupied. Other than a few generic landscapes on the walls, nothing indicated the personality of the owner of the office. Sam suspected that the agent was new to the area, which wasn't surprising. The CIA presence in Miami seemed to have a lot of turnover.

"We might as well sit," he said and took a chair near the desk. Fiona sat beside him in the other chair.

They didn't have to wait long before footsteps approached the office. The agent whispered something to the newcomer in the hall, and Sam turned to see who it was, but the hallway wasn't very well lit and the figure stood half in shadow. Whoever he was, he was well dressed in a gray Armani suit. The man shifted, turned, and stepped into the room.

"Michael," Fiona breathed.

"Fi," he replied and held out his arms, his eyes tearing at the sight of her.

Fiona was too dumbstruck to move. Sam poked her arm. "Fi," he whispered. Turning a grin on Michael, he said aloud, "Hey Mikey, it's good to see you again." He had no qualms about rising and giving his friend a brotherly hug that Michael returned with equal enthusiasm. "It's really great to see you safe and in one piece, Brother."

"Thanks, Sam. You too." Michael pulled back and studied him. "I wish I could tell you how much I've missed you all." He approached Fiona's chair, took her hand, and with a tender grip urged her to stand. "Aw, Fi." He took her into his arms and kissed her in front of Sam, not caring what his friend thought because he knew Sam was probably cheering him on inside. Indeed, Sam returned to his seat and waited for the couple to settle down and part.

Fiona was frozen with surprise and colliding emotions inside her, but when Michael took her into his arms, all that went out the window. She clung to him as if she could never let him go again, basking in the strength and warmth of his body against hers. His lips felt like a piece of heaven when he kissed her, and tears streamed out of the corners of her eyes, rolling down the sides of her face. When he finally released her, she felt the chill of the air conditioning and the separation. If only this would be over soon. The chip was their hope of ending the chase and bringing Michael home for good.

"Have you seen your Mom yet," Sam asked as Michael and Fiona separated.

Michael moved around to the comfortable looking leather chair behind the desk and sat before answering. A slight grimace crossed his face. "No, I haven't. I'd appreciate it if you didn't let her know I'm here, or I'll never hear the end of it."

Chuckling, Sam promised. "I don't wanna be the bearer of news like that. You can go see her yourself when you get a chance."

"After we retrieve the information off that chip," Michael said. "You have it, right?"

Sam nodded. "We found it in the back seat, Mike. But Russ…." He hesitated. "Russ Belliveau got stuck by your little booby trap, and now we don't know where he is."

"Booby trap?"

"Yes. Right next to the case that held the chip, there was a small needle with a vial that held something. He went down fast," Sam reported, and as he spoke and saw the perplexed look on Michael's face, the truth dawned. "You didn't put it there? Then who did?"

"Sam, where's that chip," Michael asked as he rose from his seat.

"Fi's got it in her shirt collar," Sam answered as he stood and urged her to stay sitting. He got behind her, pushed her hair aside and ordered, "Fi, tilt your head down. See? It's in here kind of tight." He retrieved his pocket knife, cut some more stitches, and extracted the chip. He handed it to Michael. "That's it, I hope. Otherwise, someone swapped it out and left a trap for anyone else looking for it."

"Who else would have known where the chip was hidden," Fiona asked, pushing her hair back into place and standing.

"I don't know." Michael turned the chip over in his hand. "It looks like the chip I hid. Let's check it." He moved to his side of the desk, and as he pushed it into a reader, Fiona and Sam came around to wait for the data to fill the screen. "It's encrypted, but when I type in the password, it will decode itself." He waited, but nothing happened. He hit a few keys, and still the screen remained empty.

"What the hell? Mike, someone must have gotten the chip ahead of us and planted a dummy in its place," Sam said.

"Del. He must have been in on it, and he put in the trap and possibly killed Russ," Fiona's words ran out with a rising fury. "I didn't trust Russ at first, but he was a good man. He didn't deserve that."

"Ever stop to think that maybe Russ planned all this," Sam asked. "He played us, Fi. I'm sorry, Mike. We should have seen it coming."

"No, it's not your fault," Michael assured them. "I worked with Russ, and he was one of us. He was a good man. Either someone forced his hand, or he had nothing to do with the chip's theft."

"Well, what do we do now," Fiona asked, looking lost. "Find Russ and grill the snot out of him?"

"If only it were that simple, Fi." Michael sat back in his chair and let out a deep breath. "Just before you arrived, one of my men called from Orlando. They found Russ." He looked up at Sam, then Fiona. "He's dead. Whatever they gave him, it killed him."

Sam muttered a curse under his breath. With a somber tone he asked, hating himself for not completely trusting that Russ was a good guy. "Did he really have a wife?"

Michael nodded, his eyes falling on Fiona. "His family will be notified. I'm sorry, Fi. Sam."

Nodding, Fiona asked again, "What do we do now, Michael?"

"You and Sam go home. Lay low for awhile." His smile was thin when he added, "Thanks for bringing the Charger back. If you don't mind, I'd like to drive it while I'm in town."

"Of course, Mike. It's your car," Sam said, and he handed him the keys. "I'll call the hotel and have a driver pick us up … I mean, me." He smiled sheepishly. "You two look like you need a room, so I'm gonna get out of here and leave you alone. See you tomorrow, maybe?"

Michael tore his eyes away from Fiona for a moment to respond to Sam. "Sure. We'll have lunch at Carlito's, how about that?"

"Sounds great. Have a good night, Mike, Fi." He patted Fiona's shoulder. At the door, he warned with a wink and a smile, "Don't get too crazy, you two." He left the office and his laughter echoed down the deserted corridor as he strolled to the elevator with the agent shadowing him all the way.

"Michael." Fiona's voice was soft, penitent. "I don't even know where to begin."

"I know where to start. I'm sorry." Michael approached her, and this time she stood and went straight into his arms where he held her with tenderness. "I'm sorry you misunderstood. This isn't forever, Fi."

"I know. You don't have to explain." Her voice was choked with emotion and as soft as a whisper. "Now that this chip is still missing, it's going to be longer, isn't it?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry for that too." He buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"I will do anything to help. You know that."

He pulled away and stared at her. "Fi, you can't. You're not part of this Agency."

"Maybe we could reinstate Bailey and Menaro's contract with me." Her smile held a sense of deviousness behind it. "You know we make a good team." As she spoke, she let her hands wander over his body, her touch blazing through the expensive material of his suit.

Michael's smile blossomed and he fought the urge to kiss her. "That we do. But it's late right now. Let's go." He paused and looked at her with a furrowed brow. "Where have you been living, anyway?"

"With your mom," she replied, her smile sultry. "I think we should find someplace else tonight."

"We can go to my hotel room," Michael said. "I just need to lock down here, and then I'll be all set."

Fiona slipped into her chair and crossed her legs, striking a delicious pose that showed off her bare legs, waiting for Michael to finish typing something into his computer and put away his files. He locked the cabinets and the computer. The chip he stuck in the middle drawer on his desk, secured it, and dropped the keys into his pocket. As he rounded the desk he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

"Are you hungry," he asked.

"Food can't satisfy me," Fiona replied with a shake of her head, her locks falling behind her shoulders.

"Room service it is," Michael declared and put his arm around her. At the door he turned off the lights and closed the door. The lock clicked and the couple headed for the elevator.

* * *

The sunlight streaming in through the sliding glass door in the bedroom of Michael's suite woke him. Parts of him ached, parts that hadn't been worked so hard since he and Fi last made love. Then he remembered the night before and a wide smile crossed his face. He turned to his right and felt a surge of love as he watched Fiona sleeping on her stomach, her arms flung over her head, her hair swirled in a wild mass spilling over her pillow and the sheet. He rolled to his side and curled up against her, taking in her warmth like a glass of water, soaking up the softness of her skin and storing it in his memory for the times when they were apart.

"Mmm, Michael," she murmured and stirred, and she squirmed around until she faced him with a sunny smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Fi." He kissed her, getting deeper into her until he couldn't control himself.

She gave in to him and let him orchestrate their movements. Fiona was used to taking the reins and Michael enjoyed it, but this time, she let him cover her in kisses because with each one she felt the love that had been missing from their relationship for awhile, or so it seemed. His obsession had taken him over, and she felt so far away from him. What she thought was a final betrayal drove a wedge between them. She was a fool to think that Michael could ever stop loving her. She learned her lesson and thanked God that she didn't lose him.

When Fiona called out his name in a strangled cry of passion, Michael felt like his body tipped over a waterfall into a warm spring below. She wrapped herself around him, bucking, moving, taking him as deep as she could. He hadn't known such pleasure in a long time. He was grateful that circumstances forced him to return to Miami, and he regretted that they would soon take him away again. Leaving would be even more difficult this time. He would have to be careful that he didn't long for Fiona with such a hunger that he got off his edge and did something stupid that put his life in jeopardy.

With their bodies entangled and cooling, Michael groaned. "Fi, I love you. I love this. I don't know how I'm going to be able to leave and finish what I started."

"You will," she said and wrapped her legs around him. "Whether or not we work together, I will be with you in spirit. You know that. Because God knows someone has to watch over you."

He laughed and caressed her cheek. "What would I do without you? You're the one who keeps me sane, Fi. Don't ever stop."

"I won't. I promise." She pulled him down and kissed him, stirring up another fire within their bodies.

A fist pounding on the door interrupted them, and Michael ripped himself away, grumbling under his breath as he threw on a robe and went to the door. "What do you want," he barked at the agent who stood outside the door.

"Mr. Westen, we have orders for you to leave for Eastern Europe in two hours."

"You're kidding." Michael stared at him.

"I wish I were, Sir. We have intelligence reports that the chip is on its way to a buyer there." He glanced inside the room behind him but didn't see Fiona. "Is Miss Glenanne still here?"

"It's none of your business if she is," Michael snapped.

"It is if her presence is requested on this mission," the agent replied with a slight smile. "Apparently, our intelligence discovered that she has connections to the people who are trying to sell the list. Old enemies, as it were. She knows them and may prove invaluable in this mission."

Michael's shocked expression deepened. "Under whose orders is this?"

"Director Raines, Sir." The agent added, "A bag is being packed for her. Your mother is taking care of it."

"I see. We'll swing by on the way to the airport," Michael said, his surprise turning to focusing on the mission.

The agent handed him a file. "Here's what we know. You two can brush up on the way." He turned and moved to the elevator, and Michael closed the door behind him. He found Fiona standing in the bedroom door clutching at a robe wrapped around her body, her head tilted, questioning him with her eyes.

"Get dressed, Fi. You and I have a mission to take care of. We have to stop at my Ma's and get your things after I pack. We'll be out of here in half an hour."

"Alright, then." She whirled and retreated into the bedroom to put her clothes on. She said it with such ease and acceptance, Michael smiled. It would be like the old days, and for the first time in a long time he looked forward to this mission.

Michael drove the Charger to his mother's house. He stored it in the garage to keep it safe for the time being and he and Fiona entered the house. Madeline had Fiona's bag ready to go and Fi did a quick change into something more appropriate for their trip. Michael waited with his mother in the kitchen.

"Michael, let me take you and Fiona to the airport," Maddie said with a hand on his arm. Since he walked in the door, she couldn't stop touching him. "It'll give us a chance to spend a little time together before you have to take off again. At least you'll have Fiona with you, so I don't think you'll be gone for ten years." She smirked.

"I promise I won't be gone that long, Ma." He took her into his arms and held her close. "I love you, Ma. I won't leave you alone that long. I swear it."

Michael conceded to his mother's wishes and let her drive them to the airport. On the way he called Sam and let him know that he and Fiona were leaving. Sam understood the nature of being a spy and how life could be diverted in the blink of an eye. He didn't give Michael any grief about not being able to see him again, just wished him and Fiona well and good luck. He also accepted protocol when Michael said that he couldn't tell him where they were going.

"Just know that we'll make sure that Russ's death wasn't in vain," Michael promised.

"You want me to go up to Orlando and tell his wife," Sam asked. "I think I can probably handle it better than some cold government type."

"Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it."

"No problem, Mikey. You and Fi take care. I don't need to tell you how dangerous these people are."

"I know. We'll be back as soon as possible and hopefully with that chip."

Due to the secretive nature of their flight, Maddie was forced to leave Michael and Fiona at the entrance to the private hangars. A van picked them up and took them to the waiting jet while Maddie watched with anxiety written on her face. She hugged herself, imagining that it was Michael still holding her and kissing her cheek as he said goodbye. She stayed until the airplane lifted in the air and turned eastward. With a resigned sigh, she returned to her car and drove home alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Hey Maddie, how would you like to go to Disney World," Sam asked with a cheerful voice when Madeline picked up the phone.

A chill ran down her spine, because whenever Sam took her to that magical place, it usually meant that trouble was brewing in Miami. But after being on the run with her son and his friends, Madeline felt confident she could take care of herself. "What happened? I don't have to leave town, Sam. You know I can handle myself just fine."

He chuckled. "Nothing's wrong. I just... I need to run an errand, and while I'm up there I thought you might like to go. That's all."

She thought about it for a moment. "Okay. What time are you coming to pick me up?"

"I'll be there early, about six tomorrow morning."

"Perfect. I'll be waiting. Is Elsa coming along?" A smile grew on her lips. She'd never met Sam's girlfriend, but from what Michael and Fiona told her about Elsa, she doubted that the woman would tear herself away from her work to go to a theme park.

"I'm working on that," Sam replied, to her surprise. "Elsa needs to get out of the office for awhile. She's had a lot going on and it's making her crazy, I can see it. Nothing a twirl in a teacup couldn't cure, right Maddie?" He laughed.

Her laugh sounded hollow. "I couldn't agree more." Michael was gone again, she already missed him, and for a moment she considered that perhaps a ride in a teacup might do her some good too. She pasted another smile on her face and said, "I'll see you tomorrow at six."

"Sounds good, Maddie."

After she hung up the phone, Madeline prepared for bed. She had to get her rest because tomorrow would be a big day. Even at her age, she loved the Magic Kingdom. It brought back a childhood she wished she'd had, and for a few hours she could be supremely happy and forget about her troubles. She turned out the lights downstairs, locked the doors, and shuffled to the staircase that led to her room.

The house was so lonely without Fiona in it. She'd gotten used to the younger woman padding around after Maddie herself had gone to bed. She heard the sighs and the attempts to hold off tears when the Irish lass missed Michael the most. Like a yo-yo, Michael always came back. But he also went away just as quick and easy, like the ocean tide. In that respect, he was just as reliable as the ocean's rhythms.

Madeline drifted off to sleep dreaming of the good times when Michael was home and Nate was alive. Even their happier times couldn't be without dysfunction, but at least they were together and they loved each other. So many times she wondered what they would have all been like if she'd made the choice to leave Frank when the boys were young. Would they have been better off, or worse? She envisioned a tirade, one of the last Frank had before Michael left for the Army. Glass broke, the shards tinkling to the floor.

With a gasp, she awoke and sat up in her bed. That wasn't a dream, it was real. Madeline held her breath and listened to footsteps slowly moving across the floor from the linoleum in the kitchen to the wood floor in the dining and living rooms. One of her favorite vases fell, popping like a light bulb as it struck the wood floor. She picked up her cell phone and dialed.

On the fourth ring, Sam answered. "Yeahlllo," he mumbled.

"Sorry to wake you, Sam, but there's someone in the house. They're downstairs," Madeline whispered into the phone. She heard the mattress shift on his side of the bed and the thump of his feet on the floor.

"Where are you, Maddie?" A shot of adrenaline tensed up his voice.

"Upstairs in the bedroom. I-I don't know if they're coming up here or not."

"Get in the closet as quick as you can. I'll be there in a few minutes," Sam said and closed the connection.

Madeline did as she was told, being careful to get out of bed and move across the floor without making a noise. The closet was a bigger challenge. She slipped the squeaky door open just enough to get inside. It was dark as coal, but she knew where the shotgun was. Sam was aware that she kept it inside, and she knew how to use it if necessary. Still, it made her feel better knowing that he was on his way to assist.

She heard the murmur of voices downstairs, the bass timber of men filtering through the plaster ceiling and wood floor beneath her bare feet. Her breath stilled. Otherwise, she would begin to hyperventilate. Despite the time being on the run with Michael, she still couldn't get used to having a threat hanging over her head, and for the life of her she couldn't understand how Michael, Sam, Fiona, and Jesse could handle it all the time.

"There's an upstairs. Go check it out," a voice barked with an accent.

Madeline's eyes scrunched shut and she held back a squeak of panic. They were coming for her! Heavy footsteps entered the bedroom.

"Boss, there's a bedroom up here, looks like the bed's been slept in but nobody's here."

The accented voice crackled over a radio. "She's gotta be here somewhere. Find Westen's mom and bring her down."

"Yes, Sir."

This was it. In seconds, the man would open the closet door and find her. Madeline buried herself deeper into the corner, throwing a blanket over her white blonde hair to camouflage herself and tucking it around her light colored pajamas. The door creaked and groaned, and she detected night light filtering through the crack.

BOOM! The house shimmied with the concussion.

"What the..." Madeline's invader muttered and turned away from the closet.

A volley of gunfire down below got his attention and signaled Sam's arrival. Knowing he couldn't take on these men alone, Madeline burst out of the closet with one of Frank's old neckties. She held both ends, flipped it into the air and over the man's head, slipping it around his neck and pulling. He was taller and stronger, fighting against her, but she used all her weight to pull back and cut off his air supply. He stopped fighting her and tried to claw the tie away from his windpipe, but it was a losing battle. He soon collapsed to the floor unconscious.

Madeline checked to make sure he was still breathing. Satisfied that she hadn't killed him, she tied his hands behind his back and pulled another necktie from the closet to bind his ankles. Then she picked up his automatic weapon and made her way to the top of the stairs. The shooting had settled down and it was quiet, too quiet for her taste. Smoke rose from the living room and she knew it wasn't the lingering pollution from her cigarettes.

Sam's name formed on her lips but she held back, afraid to call for him and give herself away. She listened and heard strange noises, gasping, groaning, and her curiosity would soon get the best of her. She had to be careful.

"Maddie? Are you okay? It's me, Sam."

"Sam? I'm up here." She grinned, so happy to hear his voice.

He poked his head into the stairwell and looked up at her. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Emotion thickened her voice as she replied. She dropped the weapon on the bed and trotted down the steps where Sam met her at the bottom and took her into his arms. She clung to him, thankful to have his warmth.

"Maddie, you're so cold. You should have put on a robe before you came down."

"I'm fine. Just... I was scared." She tried to hold back the tears, but it was impossible. "How can you do this without... without falling apart?"

"I guess it becomes natural," Sam replied, even though he himself trembled slightly. "We better get you out of here. No doubt after that skirmish, someone called the cops." He paused, listening. "Yep, I hear sirens. Either we leave now, or you have to face the cops and deal with a lot of questions."

"What did these men want, Sam?" She looked up at him with terror still in her eyes.

"I don't know." He shook his head. "But I think they were looking for something."

"I think they wanted me," Maddie cried. She swallowed as she heard doors slam outside. "There's another one upstairs. He's not dead. I, uh, I managed to knock him out."

"Maddie, I didn't think you had it in you. Way to go!" Sam praised her and gave her another hug. Someone knocked on the door and Sam broke away from Maddie. He curled his hands around her upper arms which were covered with gooseflesh. "Hey, you just stay here. I'll get that."

"Okay."

Sam turned on one of the still intact lamps on his way to the front door. He unlocked and opened it to find several police officers standing there. "Evening, Officers."

"Who are you?" The officer sized up Sam with suspicious eyes.

"Sam Axe. I'm a family friend. Who are you?"

"Officer Torres, Miami PD. We received a report of massive gunfire coming from this house," the officer replied. "Mind if we come in?"

"Not at all," Sam replied and opened the door wider. "This is my friend Mike's mom's house. He's out of the country right now and Maddie's alone, so when she called and said someone was in the house, I rushed right over."

Torres took in Sam's rumpled appearance and nodded. The officers entered the living room and saw two bodies laid out on the floor bleeding. Torres asked, "Who are these men?"

"I have no idea. When I showed up I came in the back and they were bumping around in here with flashlights, like they were looking for something," Sam answered. "They saw me, started shooting, and, well, I shot back. I guess I got lucky." He smiled sheepishly as he backed up and allowed the officers to move into the living room. He used the side of his foot to kick a spent flash grenade under the couch.

Torres nodded and scanned the disheveled room. His eyes locked on Madeline standing near the staircase. "You must be Mrs. Westen, the homeowner?"

"Yes, I am." She looked at him with distrust. "How did you know my name?"

Without missing a beat, Torres responded as he put on a reassuring smile. "Your neighbor, Mrs. Gale, told us your name is Madeline Westen."

Madeline gave him a shaky smile. "Yes, this is my home. I don't know why these men would come in here and tear up the place."

"Like I said, I'm sure these guys were looking for something," Sam said as he stood over one of the bodies and prodded it with the toe of his shoe.

The dead man's collar shifted, and Sam saw a shadowy image on his neck near the collarbone. Frowning, he crouched to take a better look.

"What is that," Torres asked as he joined Sam in his inspection.

"It's a tattoo," Sam replied. "I've seen this before."

"Gang tat?"

"Well, in a sense. It's Celtic." He sucked in a breath. "Oh, crap. I remember now. This is a design used by the Irish Brothers." He looked into the cop's puzzled eyes. "I used to do covert ops for the government, and I crossed paths with these guys. They're not good people."

"Why would they invade Mrs. Westen's home," Torres asked, still confused.

"They're looking for something that their compatriots already have." He paused, deep in thought for a moment, calculating where Mike and Fi could possibly be at the moment. Most likely setting in wherever they were headed. He muttered, "Or do they?"

"Mr. Axe, you're not making any sense."

"Excuse me a minute. I need to make an important call." Sam stood and whipped out his phone as he walked into the kitchen. He hated to interrupt Mike at such a late hour, but this was vital. He surveyed the front rooms and the officers combing it, picking up evidence and documenting it in little baggies. Maddie came to his side and he put an arm around her while he waited for Michael to answer his phone.

"Come on, Mike, pick up."

"This is Michael, leave a message."

"Crap. Mike, it's Sam. Some guys from the Irish Brothers broke into your Ma's house. I think they were looking for the list. Don't worry, Maddie's fine, I got here in time and took out two guys. Listen, I'll talk to you more about this when you call me. So call me." He closed the connection before he gave too much away in the cops' presence.

"Mr. Axe, it sounds like you need to come down to the station with us." Torres studied him.

"He doesn't need to go down to the station. I can talk to him."

Everyone turned to see Detective Howard enter the house. He was dressed in a pair of casual slacks and a Hawaiian shirt, not unlike Sam. Except for the balding head, they could almost have been brothers.

"Hey, Charlie. You didn't have to come running over here," Sam said, greeting him with a handshake.

"Not a problem, Sam. I got a call about some ruckus at the Westen house, and I remember you and Michael being friends, so I came right over." Charlie looked over the scene and focused on the body near Sam's feet.

"You know Mike," Sam asked.

Charlie replied, "No. It's just that Westen has a reputation." He smirked, and Sam knew that he was referring to Detective Paxson and her dogged determination to take his friend down on some violation, but she was never able to make anything stick. "I was doing some boring stake out and got a unit to do the job for me." He smiled. "So what's up? What's going on here?"

Sam glanced around the room. "Frankly, Charlie, I think this is something the CIA needs to get involved in. It's a long story, and they know a good chunk of it."

Charlie nodded. "Okay. Torres, your men need to get out there and check the perimeter for any clues. Sam, call the Feds." He closed in on Sam and muttered, "And if you don't mind filling me in on what you can, I'd be grateful."

"Just stick around, pal. I don't know where Mike is right now, but he didn't answer his phone. I'll leave another message with the Agency. No doubt he'll call as soon as he can."

While they waited for an answer from the CIA, the police processed the crime scene and Sam took Maddie to the hotel with him. Charlie allowed her to pack an overnight bag with a couple outfits and her personal items, and she and Sam left with promises that he would keep Charlie in the loop as much as he could.

"I wanna know who these guys are, Sam, and why they were breaking in here."

"It'll be up to the CIA to decide how much of that you learn," Sam said with an apologetic tone. "I'd love to tell you what's going on, but this is a matter of national security."

Charlie flapped a hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard that one before. Get outta here, Axe. I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks, Charlie."

"Sam?" Madeline looked at him as he led her to the back door.

"Yeah, Maddie?" He stopped and turned to face her.

"I think I could really use that trip to Disney World now." She gave him a sad smile.

He mirrored the smile and as he put an arm around her shoulders to escort her outside, he agreed. "Me too, Maddie."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Maddie was settled into the spare bedroom in the penthouse suite and Sam crawled back into bed. He tried to be as stealthy as possible and not wake Elsa, but she was on a hair trigger waiting for him to come home. He drew the covers over himself, Elsa slid across the space between them, and her arm slithered over his chest.

"Sorry, baby. I was trying to be quiet." He whispered in the darkness.

"Why are you whispering? Madeline is on the other side of the suite. She won't hear us talking," Elsa spoke with a soft voice.

Sam worked an arm around Elsa and pulled her close as he let out a deep breath. "It's been one hell of a night, Elsa. Someone broke into Maddie's." He told her everything, including the chip in a roundabout way. He hesitated. "I want you to come with us tomorrow, sweetheart. You've already had one guy hanging out in your lobby spying on you. This event just goes to show that they're escalating and they're not certain that Mike has what they want. I want you out of Miami until this blows over."

She snorted in protest against his chest where she rested the side of her face. "You worry too much. That's why I have top-notch security, right?"

There was no reasoning with her sometimes, and it was one of the few things about Elsa that irritated Sam. "You're too stubborn for your own good, Elsa. That can be a liability sometimes."

"I can't just leave my business..."

He interrupted her. "Why not? You go on trips all the time and you're gone for a few days or a week sometimes. Things run just fine without you. If something happened to you..." Emotion stuck in his throat as he thought about the ramifications of life without Elsa. She was different from all the other women he knew. If he lost her, he would be devastated, and not because he would miss the wealth and perks. "Please, just do this for me, will you?"

"Is it just for the day," Elsa asked, looking up at his face in the first light of dawn breaking rising over the horizon.

"We should stay overnight," he answered, his eyes locking with hers.

The corner of her mouth tipped up. "I suppose I could consider it... research." Her smile grew at the sight of his delight. She turned her head and stared at the sheer curtains that let in the light, and she sighed. "Well, I guess we're not getting any more sleep tonight. Might as well get up and pack."

"Oh, do you think I'm really going to waste this golden opportunity on packing," Sam asked in a gruff voice before he kissed her.

She responded by deepening the kiss and pressing herself into him. And so began what Sam hoped would be an uneventful day as far as bad guys were concerned.

* * *

Elsa was full of surprises. When she'd resigned herself to taking a mini-vacation, she knew how to take a vacation. She packed a large bag and a suit bag for an overnight trip. She came down after Sam and Maddie were waiting at the car, Maddie in the back seat and Sam standing near the trunk waiting for her. Elsa tapped down the steps in comfortable, glaring white walking shoes made of canvas, khaki shorts, and a pink and white Hawaiian print camp shirt. Unlike Sam, she tucked in the tails. As she slipped the tortoise framed sunglasses over her eyes, she smiled at him. Despite all the casual wear, she still wore makeup as if she were going to the office.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Sammy, Madeline. I had one more thing to take care of before I left." She tossed her head and her locks flipped over her shoulder.

The bellboy brought her things to the trunk, and Sam gave them a good once-over before staring at her. "We're only going to be gone a short time, honey."

"I know. A girl likes to be prepared for anything," she replied, a toothy, saucy smile on her face. She kissed his cheek in a playful manner and said, "Are you driving, or should I? You look a little tired."

"I'm fine." Sam shook his head, not sure what to make of her. After all this time, she could still throw him off kilter. He thought about earlier that morning, bringing a knavish smile to his face. He could easily go for more of that later. Right now, they needed to get out of Miami.

Sam was worried, not only for the three of them, but for Mike and Fi. He hadn't heard from Mike and he'd left two more messages. He even called the Agency and left one for Raines to call him back. Whatever was going down was either tragic or intense and they didn't want him involved. Well, it was too late for that. He was involved and he always would be as long as Michael Westen was breathing.

Sam dropped Elsa and Maddie off at the Grand Floridian with orders to stay in the room and settle in while he took care of the main reason he came to Orlando. With Russ's address in hand, he navigated his way through the suburbs and found the agent's modest home on a tree lined street. The sunlight filtered through the leaves and the wind caused them to sing, sounding like rushing water that drowned out all other sounds in the neighborhood. A couple kids played in the back yard on a swing set. Confused, Sam stood in the drive and watched them for a few moments, pushing back the rising grief and pity he felt.

"Can I help you?"

Sam turned to find a petite woman with dark hair and light blue eyes standing a few feet away. She held a gardening trowel like it was a weapon. Most people wouldn't recognize her stance that way, but Sam noted that Russ trained her well. When you see some strange man standing in your driveway eyeing your kids, you come prepared.

He threw her one of his patent disarming smiles and said, "Hi, I'm Sam Axe. I was working with your husband Russ on a case, and..."

Her expression went from defensive to dread in two seconds flat. "What happened to Russ?" He didn't answer fast enough, and she asked again with a firmer tone and closed the distance between them, her voice trembling. "Where's my husband?"

"Mrs. Belliveau..." Sam closed his eyes a moment. This was the part that he hated the most, coming right out and saying it. It was hard on him, but the aftereffects were always disastrous on the victims' families. "Ma'am, he's dead. He was poisoned by someone during our investigation on a case."

"You... you're from the Agency?" She glanced at him from head to toe, disbelief in her eyes. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"I'm sorry, it's not. And I wish I could tell you how it happened, but that's all classified." Sam looked down at her. She'd thrown the trowel on the grass and buried her hands in her dirt encrusted work gloves. He never knew what to do at this point, because his instincts always told him to hold them, but he was a stranger to her. Considering how a few minutes earlier she was prepared to take him out with a gardening tool, he wasn't sure she would be agreeable to his offer of comfort.

"This can't be happening," she cried. "Russ was just here a few days ago, and he said things were going well."

"How long has Russ been doing this, ma'am?"

"Too long, apparently. He really thought this was going to be resolved soon." She looked up and locked eyes with Sam. "It isn't, is it?"

"I don't know. We're all working on trying to get who planted the trap that caught Russ, and get back something really important." He let out a heavy sigh. "We'll do our best to make sure that Russ didn't die for nothing."

"It doesn't bring him back."

He shook his head. "No, but at least you'll know that something good came of it."

"Thank you, Mr. Axe." She sniffled and swiped at her face with the back of her gloved hands, smearing dirt on her cheeks. "I, uh, guess I better go tell my kids." She started for the front door.

"I thought Russ said your kids were grown up." He tilted his head toward the back yard.

Russ's wife smiled. "Those are the neighbor's kids. I watch them when she's at work and they're out of school. Thank you for coming by, Mr. Axe."

"If there's anything you need, give me a call, okay?" He handed her one of his cards.

She glanced at the front before tucking it into her back pocket. "Thanks, but I'll be okay."

"The Agency will help you with... arrangements."

She nodded and tripped up the porch steps to hurry inside. Sam stood on the lawn with his hands stuffed into his pants pockets and a heaviness in his chest. She took it better than some guys' wives. All her married life she was probably waiting for a day like this, expecting it, but still never quite prepared. He let out a breath as he imagined what Elsa's reaction might be if something happened to him. She would probably act in a similar fashion, pretend to be all stoic on the outside and not let anyone see how broken up she was inside.

Bang! The explosion brought Sam's head up and he looked around as more sounds of gunfire erupted from the house. The kids screamed and ran around the side of the house. "Get out of here, now!" Sam yelled. "Go call for help!" Pulling his own weapon, he raced up the steps two at a time and pulled open the door in time to see two men standing near the back door. Mrs. Belliveau lay on the floor in a growing pool of blood. One of the men fired on him and Sam dove to the side to take cover behind an overstuffed chair. He fired at his attacker.

The other man pulled ceramic canisters off the counter top, sending them crashing to the floor. Sam took another shot at the man who dared to move into the dining room where Sam had a clean shot. His face registered pain and shock when Sam's bullet hit its mark. One of the man's shots went wild, and another as one more from Sam's gun took him down.

"Sean!" The second man appeared in the doorway, saw his friend crumpled on the floor, and fired at Sam but he was too late. He dropped his gun as he slid down the wall grasping at his bleeding shoulder.

Sam got out from behind his shelter and swept the area for other intruders, but these two were the only ones. He approached Russ's wife, keeping his weapon trained on the man breathing fast and shallow, still propped against the wall. He placed two fingers at her neck and searched in vain for a pulse.

"You killed her," Sam growled. "Why'd you kill her? She was innocent in all this!"

"She knew about the chip," the man replied.

"She knew nothing," Sam barked a retort.

The man smirked. "My boss... he... he had a deal with her. She was supposed to turn over... the chip when her husband found it."

Gaping at him, Sam said, "He never found it. Not the real one, anyway."

The injured man let out a stream of expletives. "You better not be lyin' to me now."

"Why would I lie?" Sam paused, listening. "The cops are coming, hopefully with some medical help for you. So you've got a little time to think about this. How do you want this to go?"

The man spoke with a thick Irish accent, confirming that some of Fi's old compatriots, or enemies, were involved in this plot. "It doesn't matter. Whether you kill me or the cops take me in, I won't last the day. You know it. My boss'll find out we failed and my life is over."

Footsteps pounded up the steps and someone threw open the screen door. "Drop the gun! Drop it!"

Sam complied and laid his weapon at his feet before getting up in slow motion and placing his hands behind his head. He sighed, biding his time until he was away from the scene and could talk to the detective in charge. He explained as much as he could, and when he was able to show the woman the ID that showed he worked with the CIA, she had the cuffs removed. As he talked with her, Sam watched the coroner bring in a stretcher to remove the bodies.

"Detective," Sam began with a hesitant tone. "Will someone be contacting the Belliveau's kids?"

"Our department will take care of that. We'll have someone from the CIA along to inform them of their father's death. My condolences, Mr. Axe, regarding Mr. Belliveau."

"Thanks. I didn't get to know Russ all that well but he was a good guy." Sam shook his head. "I can't imagine how his kids are going to take this."

"I hope you and the Agency can find who was behind this. If there's anything the Orlando PD can do, let us know." She handed Sam his weapon and his ID.

"Thanks. I have to make a report now. I guess my day is shot now." He tucked everything away and with one more look toward the house he walked to his car and got in. He started it up, shored himself with a large breath, and drove back to the hotel where Elsa and Maddie waited.

On the way, he called the Agency. "Is there any way to get a hold of Michael Westen?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Axe, he's still out of the country."

"Yeah, but there's gotta be a way." His phone beeped. "Oh, gotta go. I'll call you back later." He hit the button to end the call and pick up the incoming one. "This is Sam Axe."

"Sam, it's me," Michael's voice came across the ocean loud and clear.

"Jeez, Mike, you have impeccable timing! Where are you?"

"Still in Eastern Europe," Michael answered. "Fi and I are waiting for our meet. Any progress back home?"

Sam gave him a quick rundown on the past couple hours' events. "I left a report with the Agency. Unfortunately, there isn't anything else I can do on this end. I won't even ask how things are going with you."

"It's hot, Sam. That's all I can say." There was a pause of a few seconds before Michael continued. "I have to go. Our ride is here. Be careful. There's more than one team playing this game."

"Will do. You do the same, Mikey." The connection ended and Sam finished his trip to the hotel in silence while he mulled over the code in Michael's speech. They found the seller of the chip and were following him or her to some kind of meet, hopefully with the buyer.

He'd been so focused on the clues that he neglected to watch his rearview mirror, so when the vehicle behind him suddenly ran into his bumper, Sam startled out of his reverie. He picked up his speed, mindful of the traffic on the road. He was on Disney property now, and with tourists driving all over the place, he had to be careful. He cut around a slow moving station wagon full to the roof with gear and bouncing, screeching kids, and his tail followed. The way was clear, so Sam put on the gas. A car came off a ramp and he swerved to avoid it. The driver behind him almost lost control they were moving so fast.

An exit was coming soon, so Sam made his way for it. The trailing car sped up and rammed his bumper again, and he evaded with a little more gas. The next impact came and shattered the left tail light, the attacker's bumper pushing with relentless pressure like a pit bull's jaws on a bone. The car started to go into a spin, and Sam did what he could to prevent it, but it was impossible to stop. The Cadillac skidded sideways off the road and rolled down a short bank, landing on its passenger side on the edge of some wetlands.

Fortunately, Sam was belted in and didn't appear to be injured. He unbuckled the seatbelt and climbed out the broken driver's side window. The pursuer's car sat parked on the shoulder along with another vehicle. The two men chasing him down raised their weapons at him and Sam ducked inside the car. He came up with his own gun firing in return. Out of the corner of his eye he spied a man and woman standing near their car in horror. Kids leaned out the windows with looks of excitement on their faces. To them, the theme park adventure was starting a little early.

"Get out of here," Sam barked at them and fired at the men who took refuge behind their car.

Sirens shrieked, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Twice in one day the law was coming down to help him. After this, a few whirls on the teacups would be a piece of cake.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Sam stuck his keycard in the slot in the hotel room door and trudged into the suite. Elsa and Maddie were sitting on the balcony sharing a lunch and talking, but when the two heard the door slamming, their heads turned and saw him.

Elsa gasped and hurried inside, grasping his arms to stop him from heading for the bathroom. "Sam, what on earth happened to you? You've been gone for three hours! I was worried about you and I couldn't get you on your phone, and..."

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's been a long day, and if it's all the same to you, I'd like to just hang out at the hotel and not do the Disney thing today. I'm wiped." Sam looked ready to drop where he stood. His clothes were smeared with dirt and blood and she didn't know if any of it was his or someone else's. He sported a bruise on the side of his face and a small adhesive bandage near his hairline.

"What happened," Maddie asked as she joined the couple in the living area. "Sam, you look terrible!"

"In a nutshell, a couple of guys killed Mrs. Belliveau just after I told her about her husband. I can't tell you anything more other than that it's related to the case."

"Naturally," Maddie muttered. "So how did you get this?" She touched the side of her own face.

"On my way here I got run off the road by a couple other guys, right after I talked to Mike. This whole thing's gotten way out of hand, and there are so many players, I don't know if we'll ever get to the bottom of who's involved." Sam paused and took a breath. "I just hope we can find what we're looking for before it gets into the wrong hands and someone does something with it."

"Where is Michael," Maddie asked. "Is he in Miami?"

"No," Sam replied. "I don't even know for sure where he is. You know how this works."

"Yes, I do." She whirled and moved toward the open sliding door, pulling out a cigarette and preparing to light it when she made it to the balcony.

"Don't worry about her, Sam." Elsa turned him toward the bathroom and gave him a gentle push. "You just go in there and get cleaned up, and I'll bring you some clean clothes. Then maybe you'll want to take a nap or something while Maddie and I hit the park. It'll be nice and quiet in here so you can rest."

"No, you two aren't going anywhere alone. I mean it." The way his eyes bored into her, Elsa's anxiety rose.

She came back with a sharp reply. "You're not going to be able to get into the park armed, you know."

"I'll worry about that tomorrow, baby." He kissed her with a brief press of his lips. "Promise me you two won't go anywhere? Please?" When she didn't respond, he said, "Fine. Get me some clothes, I'll take a shower, and we'll go to the park."

"You're tired..."

"And you're stubborn. I'll survive, really." He planted a kiss on her forehead before turning away and entering the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and quickly undressed. He was afraid that Elsa would get it in her head to go without him so he resolved to be quick about getting himself together. A knock sounded on the door and she walked in with a short stack of clothes. She gave him a long, appreciative look through the glass door that hadn't fogged up yet and licked her lips.

"Wanna join me," he asked with a naughty waggle of his eyebrows.

She laughed. "As nice as that sounds, I'll just wait out there with Maddie." She blew him a kiss and left the bathroom after laying his things on the vanity.

"You're missing out, baby," he called out with a light tone. He should have felt terrible about not trusting Elsa, but he knew her too well. Since he returned from being on the run, she was more eager to get involved in his gigs no matter how dangerous they were. This one was the most hazardous one yet. Hard to believe it started with a simple errand to pick up Mike's car at the airport. It was turning into an international incident.

Emerging from the bathroom in clean clothes and wet hair, he said, "Okay, let's go. Oh, and just so you know, unless we take the shuttle to the park, we'll need a rental car. The Caddy had to be towed away."

Elsa gaped. "Sam, you didn't tell me this before," she berated him. "What happened?"

"I wound up taking a tumble down a bank, and it's probably totaled now. Sorry, honey, I did my best to keep it from happening, but..."

She interrupted him with a caress and her words. "I'm just glad you're okay."

The way she looked all worried, he wanted to kiss her and wipe her cares away, but they had an audience. Maddie observed them with a slim, all-knowing smile on her face. "Uh, come on, let's go."

"It's getting kind of late and you didn't have anything for lunch," Elsa said. She must have felt the heat too, because her cheeks were an attractive yet subtle shade of rose.

Sam brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and smiled. "Don't worry about me. I'll get something at the park. We're here to stay low and let Maddie have some fun, so that's what we're going to do."

They were almost out the door when Elsa asked, "Where's your gun, Sam?"

"Tucked away in the room." He squeezed her hand. "Any more questions?"

"No. Let's go. You look like you really need to relax," Elsa declared, taking his hand and walking the hall with him and Maddie. She'd been around Sam long enough to know that despite his weariness he was still coming down from the adrenaline of the encounter at Russ's house and the chase. Customarily, he would meet her afterwards, and she would help him settle down. They didn't have that luxury today. She missed it. He surely did.

Sam, Elsa, and Maddie soon found themselves moving through the turnstiles at the Magic Kingdom. Seeing that the park was crowded and perfect for blending in and getting lost, Sam's spirits lifted and he got his second wind. Taking their hands and pulling the ladies down Main Street, he said, "Let's go, girls. It's time to have some fun!"

* * *

The couple sat in the cafe watching the street, waiting for the signal. The red scooter sat outside the cathedral for a couple of hours now, and after an unknown number of cups of coffee, Fiona had to use the ladies' room, but she was afraid that the moment she chose would be the worst time ever. Michael would go running off to pursue their quarry and she would lose him again.

"I think we missed him," Michael muttered behind his cup. He sat close enough to her so only she could hear, leaning into his chair appearing to be casual as he enjoyed his third espresso. "I was told he would come out, put something into the storage compartment on that scooter, and walk away. It was the chip."

"That was the arrangement," Fiona agreed. "Perhaps someone got to him first. They had the same idea we did."

"We've been sitting here long enough to look suspicious. Let's move." Michael rose and stretched his limbs.

"If we're moving, I'm going to go powder my nose first," Fiona said with a flip of her hair as she stood. "Don't run off without me."

The happy smile on his face accentuated his words along with the touch of his hand cupping her elbow. "I have no intention of running off without you again. I promise."

His smoldering eyes sent a shiver through her. If only they could finish this mission and take advantage of the comfortable goose down bed back at the hotel. The country may have been rough and a bit uncivilized looking, but the innkeepers certainly knew how to treat their guests. Breaking herself from her steamy thoughts, Fiona spoke with a soft sultry voice, "I'll be right back."

While he waited, Michael stretched and scanned the streets in front of him. The cathedral was situated on a corner at an opposing angle to where he stood. People came and went, conducting their business with God. One man approached the scooter, and Michael's breath stopped when he recognized him. He was so intent on watching that he didn't notice when Fiona stepped up beside him and took his arm.

"I'm ready, Michael."

"Fi, O'Neal is here."

The name from her past made her blood run cold. "Are you sure it's him," she asked as she squinted and studied the man.

"Yes. Let's go, just casually stroll along and catch him. Maybe he won't see us until it's too late."

As the couple crossed the street they kept their eyes on him but still watched where they were going. O'Neal pulled a small wrapped package from inside his jacket and slipped it into the compartment, but his hand didn't come out empty. He grasped an envelope and tucked it away without looking inside. No doubt he would find a place to count the money in private. He turned on his heel and entered the cathedral.

Michael and Fiona trotted against the signal across the street to reach the old stone building and the momentum took her up the steps while Michael turned to the scooter and snatched the package. "Fi, come on, we got what we came for. We'll report to the agency what we saw, and O'Neal will get caught by the support team."

Fiona stopped on the first landing, her chest heaving. "No. I want him, Michael. He has to pay for what he's done." She looked down at the small box in his hands. "Maybe that isn't even the chip. Maybe it's blank. He could be pulling something here."

"We'll let the back up team worry about that." Michael closed in on her and used their bodies as a shield to open the box. Inside was a key but nothing else. He let out a frustrated breath. "Looks like a train station locker key, and it has a number on it. Come on, Fi, we have to go to the station anyway."

"But Michael..." She stared into his eyes, her fire for revenge against the man who killed her sister and caused her so much grief was within her grasp, and now the man she loved was asking her to let him walk.

"Fi, I'm sorry. We have to leave now. We'll get our things from the hotel, go to the train station, and access this locker. Then we're gone." He felt for her, he truly did. So many times in his career he wanted to stick around and make sure someone paid for their crimes, committing the kind of justice they deserved but would never get in a court of law. The chip, however, was so much important than that now. He had to tell her the truth, and maybe then she would give up and follow him. "Fiona, O'Neal is on the list on this chip. Once we have it and it's in the Agency's collective hands, they can take care of him. And I promise I will do what I can to make sure you're there to see it happen."

"Nothing would satisfy me more than to strap a bomb to him and..."

"I know." Michael turned her away from the cathedral and down the street that would take them to their hotel. "For now, he gets a pass. But he will get caught."

"I swore I wouldn't rest until he was six feet under. Don't make me break my promise."

He put an arm around her and held her close. "I swear it, Fi. O'Neal will wish he'd never met the Glenannes."

Some missions were easy, and some seemed as if they took every ounce of a spy and wrung him dry and still required more. The mission to retrieve the chip was on the easier side, and for that Michael was grateful. He'd been spending a lot of time wearing himself out in pursuit of the people who tried to destroy the Agency, taking him out of the picture first. He and Fiona packed their bags and hurried to the train station. The locker wasn't difficult to find, and he opened it to find the chip in a ring sized box.

He scooped the box out of the locker, and a second later a flash and a bang reverberated through the station. Working on instinct alone, Michael dove for the floor and took Fiona with him. The blast shot out over their heads, but it wasn't powerful enough to obliterate the entire bank of lockers. People ran in panic and police whistles shrilled.

"Michael, we have to get out of here before someone pinpoints us," Fiona exclaimed as she got into a crouch beside him. She asked, "Did you get it?"

"Yes," Michael answered as he opened it with caution. He plucked out the chip and stuffed it into his pocket. "It's here. Now we've got it, so let's catch a train."

"Your hand is bleeding." Fiona pointed to the torn flesh on the back. "It's bad."

"We don't have time for this. Let's go, and we can patch it up on the train." He unzipped his bag enough to pull out a piece of clothing. It was a t-shirt. "Wrap this around it, and let's move."

Fiona had enough time to make a hasty bandage, and the two got to their feet and pressed into the crowd, losing the attention of any curious onlookers. He hid his hand in his jacket pocket until they were on board a train heading to the capital city where they would catch a flight home. The cabin offered them privacy, and Fiona nursed his hand.

"It doesn't look too bad," she said. "Just a few shrapnel cuts. You're lucky none of them slashed a vein, or you'd be bleeding out or in the hospital." She finished bandaging his wounds, fighting with him to keep his hand still. "If you don't stop moving, I'll..."

"What? What will you do," Michael asked.

Her eyes flitted up to his, and she saw a hint of amusement mixed with his love for her. Trying to hide her desire to laugh and kiss him, she replied in her brogue, "I'll wrangle you until you're lyin' on the floor and I've got you pinned. You can never get out of my grip then and I'd finish this."

"That sounds like fun." He chuckled. "When we're back home, maybe you can show me how that's done."

"Are you planning on staying around for awhile?" She met his eyes with doubt in hers.

"I've got an injury that'll prevent me from being effective in the field," Michael explained. "I could be laid up for, oh, one or two weeks. And I'd need someone to care for me, I mean, it." His smile expanded. "I might even need some nice tropical air to assist in the healing process. So what do you say, Fi? You, me, a secluded island where it would be just the two of us." By the time he finished, his lips were less than an inch from hers. Her breath beat against them.

"It sounds heavenly," she responded with a whisper, and her hand slipped around the back of his neck to pull him closer. She drank him in, taking what he gave with a wildness she hadn't felt in a long time.

A voice over the PA announced that they were coming to the station, throwing cold water on the passion that reigned inside that little room. Michael groaned and ran his hand through Fiona's hair, kissing her like a desperate man. "This isn't over," he said with a gruff voice. "I just don't know if I'll be able to wait until we're in Miami to finish it."

"Anticipation makes desire burn hotter," Fiona assured him and nibbled at his earlobe, hoping there was still time to act, but the train came to a stop before they got too carried away. She sighed as if releasing a load of pressure from her system and continued. "Let's go home."

Michael's desire to be alone with Fiona was outweighed only by the anxiety he felt in regards to the chip. They'd been fooled once before, but he was confident that this time he had the right one. The markings he left on it were consistent. The question was whether it had been accessed or not. He designed it with a pass code that could only be used once. If someone tried to use it again, the information on the chip would erase itself and it would be gone before anyone could copy it. It was a dangerous tactic, but he didn't want this to fall into the hands of multiple bad guys.

Fiona sat next to him on the plane, her body snuggled up to his, and he held her to his side. She was tired and so was he, but until that chip was in the Agency offices, he wouldn't allow himself to sleep. He couldn't sleep even if he wanted to, because between the pain from his hand and the stress of carrying his secret cargo, it was enough to keep him awake. The sun was rising when the airplane made its descent and landed in Miami. He tried calling Sam to see if he could pick them up at the airport, since he and Fiona took a ride from an agent when they left, but his phone wasn't in service. He tried his mom, and she wasn't answering. As a last ditch effort, he called Elsa's hotel.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Westen, Mr. Axe isn't here. I believe he is traveling."

"Traveling," Michael repeated. "Can you tell me where?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. He said it was confidential. Ms. Darabant went along with him, but that's all I know." The front desk clerk sounded nervous. "Perhaps I can put you through to Ms. Darabant's assistant."

"No, thanks. That's not necessary." He ended the call and said to Fi, "I guess it's up to us to get to the Agency on our own."

"You should have driven the Charger here," Fiona scolded him with a teasing tone.

"Are you kidding? My car got hijacked from the airport lot once. I'm not risking it again."

She laughed and shook her head. "You spies. A bunch of bitchy little girls, like Sam says."

"No insults, not if you want to spend that vacation with me." He teased as he grasped her arm and led her to a bank of yellow cabs baking in the early morning sun. "Let's go, get this over with. Then I want to take a nice hot shower and a long nap in that order before we do anything or go anywhere."

"Sounds like you've got everything worked out," she said with a smile, and she slipped an arm around him, falling into step.

The cab took them to the CIA building and Michael headed directly to his temporary office. He closed the door behind him and Fiona, made a straight line to his desk, and booted up the computer. He stuck the chip into the slot, entered the pass code, and blinked. A screen appeared with a long line of data that was a mess if anyone looked at it in its raw form. But Michael entered it into a program that decoded it, and by the time he was done, the list appeared on the screen. He smiled.

"It's here, Fi." His voice was choked with emotion. "Everything you and Sam and I were fighting to retrieve is here." He saved the file in a secure location and created a copy in his personal folders. "I'll just contact Raines to let him know, and then we're out of here."

Fiona wandered the small office while Michael made the call. With each step, tension dribbled from her body. She watched the play of excitement on Michael's face as he told Raines the good news, and it reminded her of the old days before they had so many cares and worries. He looked young again, like when they first met. The memory of those days brought a quivering in her midsection that shot out to her nerve endings. Her eyes focused on his lips, and she was done. Any plans he had after talking with his supevisor would just have to wait.

She made sure the door was locked, drew the blinds on the window beside it, and with a slow, deliberate walk she met Michael at his desk. He set the phone down and looked pleased.

"We can go now, Fi. Raines has the list and now it's up to someone else to start going through it."

"In awhile. I have something I want to take care of first." She stopped at his chair, turned it to face her, and climbed into his lap and straddled him. He tried to speak, but her lips came down hard on his, and all thoughts of conversation flew out of his mind. When she came up for air, she gasped, "Michael, I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too, Fi. Me too." The look of hunger in his eyes proved it.


	13. Chapter 13

** Chapter 13**

After a full day surrounded by the magical kingdom, Sam was beyond tired. He was exhausted, and the moment he fell into bed, he closed his eyes and was asleep within minutes. He slept in and had a late breakfast, and while Elsa and Maddie were getting ready to leave for the next park, Sam called the agency. He was surprised to hear that Michael returned.

"When did he get in?"

"Early this morning, Mr. Axe. You might want to try him at his mother's house. He was quite worried that he couldn't get in touch with her," the agent on the other side of the line informed him.

Sam would have bet that Mike tried to get in touch with him too, but his phone had been destroyed in the crash. He needed to buy a new one, and soon. "Okay, thanks a lot." He pressed the button to end the call and dialed Maddie's home number. It rang several times and the machine was starting to pick up when he heard Michael's voice.

"Hello? Ma, is it you?"

He'd never heard Mike's voice sound so fearful regarding his mother. "Hey Mikey, it's me, Sam."

A breath hissed over the line. "Sam. Where's my Ma?"

"Don't worry, she's with me and Elsa. We're at Disney. I needed to get her out of town fast, and Elsa came along." He hesitated, listening to his friend's breathing settle down. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Fi and I got back this morning with the list. Raines should have it by now." Michael answered, all business, but then his tone changed to something lighter. "We're going away for a little while."

"You and Fi?" That was a big surprise, a welcome one at that. "I hope this is a vacation. It better be or I'll tear back to Miami and give those guys at the Agency a piece of my mind."

Michael laughed. "There's no need for that, Sam. I have two weeks, and Fi and I are going to Jamaica for most, if not all, of it. We need to get away from everything."

"Damn straight," Sam agreed. "You guys have a great time and we'll see you when you get back."

"Thanks. Tell my mom, will you?"

"No problem. I'll take care of it. Oh, are you driving the Charger to the airport? I hope not, because I don't wanna have to be hunting for it again."

"Fi and I already discussed that. We're taking her car this time, and the Charger is staying in Ma's garage until I get back."

"Good idea." Sam smiled at the lightness in Michael's tone. He was finally getting a chance to relax, something that was long overdue. "Well, you two enjoy yourselves and come back well rested. If anything pressing happens while you're gone, well, don't worry about it. Leave your phone at home so you won't even know."

Laughing, Michael said, "Thanks, Sam. We'll see you in a couple weeks."

"Who was that," Maddie asked as she entered Sam and Elsa's bedroom and found him hanging up the phone.

"That was Mike," Sam announced as he approached her with a reassuring smile. "He's fine, Fi's fine, and they're at your house right now getting ready to go to Jamaica for a week or so."

"Michael's home? We need to leave now!" She tried to wrestle out of Sam's grasp on her shoulders. "Who knows when he'll really be back home?"

"Maddie, listen to me." Sam's gaze drilled into her shifting, agitated eyes, and he spoke in a soft, even tone. "Calm down. They're going on vacation. You know Mikey deserves this, and Fi will be with him, so he's in good hands. He'll come back to Miami more relaxed and fresh. Just let him go, and he'll see you in two weeks."

She knew she could trust Sam to be truthful, unless this was another clandestine mission. If that was the case, any loyalty he felt towards her vanished, replaced by his allegiance to Michael and national security. "You're sure this is just a vacation?"

He squeezed her shoulders with a gentle grip. "Yes. So just relax. After all, that's what we're here for. Right?" His smile widened. "Let's go to the Animal Kingdom today. How about it?"

Maddie stared at him for a few seconds before answering. "Okay. But after this I want to go home. If it's safe."

"It's never been safer," Sam responded with confidence.

The three left the suite and enjoyed the day with lighter hearts knowing that Michael and Fiona were together and hopefully having the time of their lives. Before leaving the hotel, they checked out and arranged for a rental car to get them back to Miami, and in the late afternoon they headed for home. With a stop for dinner, Sam didn't turn onto Maddie's street until after dark.

He drove past the front of the house and everything seemed to be in order. But when he turned the corner, a strange car was cloaked by the shade from a large oak. The vehicle was a beater, and it didn't look like anything Maddie's neighbors would drive.

Sam asked, "You know that car, Maddie?"

"No," Maddie answered, alarm in her voice.

"I was afraid of that." Sam's expression turned grim in the glow from the dash as he parked near the corner. "I see light in the garage. You two stay here." He shut the car off but left the keys in the ignition, grabbed his sidearm, and closed the driver's side door with very little sound after getting out. He slipped around to the side door and peered inside.

Two figures moved around the Charger with flashlights shining on the undercarriage and the interior. The garage side door was open a crack, allowing Sam to sneak inside. He'd been through the door often enough to know exactly where it squealed, so he pushed just far enough, turned sideways with his gun leading the way, and entered.

"I'd be careful about that if I were you," he said to the person checking the cracks in the back seat. "Last guy who did that got poisoned and lost his life."

The intruders sucked in their breaths in surprise, and the one inside the Charger dropped his flashlight. It rolled to the floor. Sam turned on the overhead light and kept his gun aimed at the guy inside the vehicle.

To the guy hiding behind the bumper, Sam said, "You better come on out. It's been a long day, I'm tired, and my trigger finger is itchy. Might accidentally shoot your friend for trespassing, and then who knows what'll happen to you before the cops get here."

"We don't want any trouble," the man behind the bumper said as he rose, his eyes beady as he stared at Sam's handgun. He put his hands behind his head and came out to stand near the back fender. "Some guy hired us to look for something. He said it would be on this car, and he gave us each five hundred bucks."

"Yeah." His friend joined him. "We're kinda down on our luck right now, so we needed cash bad, man. Otherwise we wouldn't be caught dead doing a job like this."

"Who did you do this job for," Sam asked. Neither man spoke, and Sam smirked. "You're gonna do this the hard way, huh? Okay, I can deal with that, no skin off my nose." He got out his new cell phone and dialed the CIA office and asked for the Deputy Director.

"Dan Siebels."

"Deputy Director, this is Sam Axe." Sam swore he could hear a groan on the other side of the phone.

"Axe, what do you want? Do you realize how late it is?"

"Yes, Sir, I do. It's just that I need some agents to come out to Madeline Westen's house. There are a couple of enemies of the state here who were pawing around Mike's car looking for something. They won't tell me what, but I'm sure you can imagine." Sam heard a distinct sound of leather creaking. Siebels was sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Did they say anything about who sent them?"

"No, but they're not particularly chatty. I figured the CIA could work their magic and have them singing like birds in no time." He smiled at the two prisoners, seeing the terror in their eyes at the pictures that ran rampant through their minds.

"Hold them. I'll have a car there in about twenty minutes. Or less."

"Thanks. I'm sure we'll have a great time until your guys get here." He slipped the phone into his pocket. All the while he talked with Siebels, he kept his eye on his prisoners and the barrel locked on them. "Alrighty, guys. The CIA has some agents on the way, so if you change your mind and want to talk, great. Otherwise…" He let out a breath. "I don't envy you one bit if you try to resist them. They have some really innovative ways of making people talk."

"Look, man, we don't know what's going on. We were just hired to find this thing."

"What thing," Sam asked.

"A little plastic thing about this big," the shorter guy to Sam's right gestured with his thumb and forefinger. "It's some kind of chip. That's all we know. Really!"

Sam tried to get more out of them before the agents arrived, but it became apparent that they really were in the dark as to what they were seeking. The men were assigned to search the car, find it, and get paid. End of story.

"I've got a little word of advice for you guys," Sam said as he heard car doors slamming. "Next time someone asks you to do a job and waves hundred dollar bills in your face, ask questions. Lots of them, and find out what you're getting yourself into. For five hundred bucks, you almost betrayed your country. Is it worth it?"

The taller one opened his mouth to speak, and Sam sensed anger bubbling up from deep inside him. If the guy said 'Yes', he had a feeling he wouldn't be responsible for what happened next. He could chalk it up to being tired, but that wasn't the truth. For most of his life he'd been fighting for this country, good or bad, and to come across people who gave no thought to spitting on it by helping a terrorist was something he couldn't stand. Even the government had gone soft on traitors, putting them away in prison instead of executing them like they did in the old days.

He heard footsteps and turned his head enough to see the agents who arrived to pick up his prisoners. "Pearce. They've got you doing cleanup detail?"

She shrugged. "I was the only one sober enough to come," she answered in a way that if Sam didn't know her better, he would have thought she was serious. "I got the graveyard shift with Agent Jakes. He's new to Miami."

"But I've been in the agency a long time," Jakes added.

Sam narrowed his eyes. The guy didn't look like he was a day over thirty, thirty-five at the most. He shrugged. "Well, they're all yours, Dani. Have a ball."

"Thanks for hanging onto them for us, Sam," she said with an appreciative smile. "I saw Michael and Fiona off on their vacation, by the way. I don't think Michael could get out of the agency building fast enough."

"Did they even pack," Sam asked.

Pearce and Jakes cuffed the prisoners as she answered. "I don't think so." A twinkle in her eyes told him she suspected they wouldn't need much where they were going, and she proved it by adding, "I think I heard him say something about a private island."

Sam nodded. "Great. He needs to get away from the rat race for awhile. Longer than two weeks, that's for sure."

"Don't worry. His days as an agent are numbered if plans work out," she said, being careful not to reveal too much in front of the prisoners who Jakes escorted out of the garage with Pearce and Sam trailing behind.

Sam leaned closer. "So Raines got the list."

"Yes. The fury is already coming down on the people who are on it."

"Good. Those guys were looking for it, but they were a little late to the party. And they're out of five hundred bucks apiece."

Pearce glanced up at him. "That's all they got for a treasonous act?"

"Apparently selling out your country is cheap these days."

Pearce let out a long even breath and shook her head. "Sounds like we need people like Michael all the more." When she said it, her eyes were locked on Sam.

He backed off a step and waved his hands. "Uh uh, lady. No way. I've served my time right alongside Mike. My lady would kill me if I tried to get into the Agency." He stood his ground, fists on hips. "Besides, after seeing everything that Mike's gone through, do you really think I'd be that stupid?"

"It wasn't the CIA doing those things, and you know it." She spat her words at him.

"Okay, calm down. I know you're passionate about your work, and I admire that. But I've done enough. It's time to enjoy my retirement like I hoped I would seven years ago. Only this time, things are a little better." His eyes wandered to the car where Maddie and Elsa stood. The love of his life looked worried, as if she feared that he would run off and take Michael's place while he was on vacation. "Now, unless there's something you need from me, I'm out of here. I have to get home. My lady and I have a date with a mattress."

Pearce rolled her eyes. "I really don't need to hear about your love life, Sam."

He barked out a laugh. "No, the only plans I have tonight are to sleep. Good night, Pearce."

"Good night. And thanks."

"You're welcome." He nodded at her and turned toward the car.

"After tonight's events, I think Maddie should stay at the hotel with us," Elsa declared and addressed Madeline. "Tomorrow we can come here and make sure everything is safe before you settle in."

"Thank you. That's really sweet of you."

"I agree. Come on, let's go." Sam opened the doors for Maddie and Elsa. "I don't know about you sweetheart, but a vacation sounds really good after this."

"We could go back to Disney World," Maddie suggested with a grin.

Sam got into the driver's seat and turned to face her in the back. "Mike won't be around for a couple weeks. Maybe you should call Virgil and see if he'd like to come for a visit?"

Maddie's face lit up so bright, she could have illuminated the back of the car without aid from the street light. "That's a great idea!"

Turning back to the front, Sam started the car and put it in gear. He took Elsa's hand and as he drove he squeezed it. "And you and I, we'll go someplace and get away from all of this."

"That sounds good. Just promise me you'll leave your phone at home."

"You've got a deal, baby." He kissed her hand and drove into the night to take them home.


End file.
